Fool's Gold
by MaverickLover2
Summary: When Bart Maverick tries to help an old friend, the meaning of 'Fool's Gold' really hits home
1. Chapter 1 A Rose is a Rose

Fool's Gold

Chapter 1 – A Rose is a Rose

It had been a miserable trip from St. Joe to Carson City. Normally he would have made it by horseback but he had no desire to spend that much time alone on a horse. At least not right now. So he endured a cross country stagecoach ride with a never ending stream of salesmen and church ladies. One was out to sell him something, the other to change his 'wicked, wicked ways.' He wasn't buying and he wasn't converting.

On the last day of the journey he was finally alone. Blessed peace. At least until he got to Virginia City and the coach made a mail stop. That's when the prettiest young lady he'd seen in quite a while got on. She reminded him of his 'sister' just by her stature; she was almost a foot shorter than him. Beautiful porcelain skin, eyes that seemed to change from green to gray, long, chocolate hair that fell in waves down her back. And a face and figure to die for. He tipped his hat immediately and introduced himself. "Hello, my name is Bart Maverick. Are you going to Carson City?"

"Yes, sir, I am." The voice was perfect, soft and low, with a patrician air to it. When no further information was offered he looked for a wedding ring. There was none. Things were looking up. She had a book in her hand and he saw the title – _'Roughing It'_, by Mark Twain. Interesting reading for an obviously cultured young woman. "Gotten very far in your book?"

"No, sir, I just started it." She set the book down on the seat next to her and extended her hand, which was covered in a very proper glove. "I'm Rose Garrett. I'm going to meet my father. He's waiting for me in Carson City."

He kissed the back of her hand. "You're Anderson Garrett's daughter?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. "Do you know my father?"

Know Anderson? He was the very person who'd sent Bart a telegram, begging him to come to Nevada. Something to do with a problem child. Was Rose the problem? She certainly wasn't a child. "Yes, I do. Miss Garrett. Quite well, as a matter of fact."

"Oh my. Have I misspoken? Are you the gentleman my father told me was coming to visit?"

Bart almost laughed but decided it wouldn't be polite. He was sure that Anderson had talked about him, but he doubted if the term 'gentleman' arose in the conversation. Of course, Anderson had his own ideas about things and most likely did consider him a gentleman. Especially if this was the 'problem child' that his friend was concerned about. Rose was certainly a beautiful problem to have. 'No, you haven't misspoken, and I am the person coming to visit." Bart deliberately left the term 'gentleman' out of his answer. Rose could make that decision for herself.

She blushed quite prettily. "I am embarrassed. I intended to be at home before you arrived. I was unexpectedly delayed and had to take a later coach. Thus my late appearance."

"I find no fault with your appearance, Miss Garrett." Either her late arrival or the way she looked. "As a matter of fact, I'm quite pleased that you're my traveling companion. You're much more pleasant company than the people I was riding with before." He thought back to some of the church ladies and suppressed a small chuckle. Of course, Rose might not feel any differently than they did when she learned that he was another of 'those awful gamblers,' just like her father.

"Why, what was wrong with them?"

How to explain trying to convince someone hell-bent on showing you the error of your ways that you'd already seen the error of your ways and preferred them? Better not try until he knew and understood Miss Garrett much better. "Let's just say my opinions were at odds with theirs."

"In other words, they wanted to turn you into something you are not."

Very astute. "Yes, Miss Garrett, that's exactly what they wanted."

"I've found that does not always work out for the best in life, Mr. Maverick."

"Please, call me Bart."

"I've no doubt, Bart, that's exactly what my father wants you to do to me."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rose smiled a little sly smile and her eyes twinkled. "Didn't my father beg you to come visit us?"

Ah, now they were playing verbal poker. "I wouldn't use the term 'beg.'"

"Nevertheless, he asked you to come visit so that he could solve a very acute problem – namely, me."

He didn't owe her an explanation but he thought best to give her one anyway. "I was spending time with your father in New Orleans over a year ago when I was called away on urgent family business. He wanted me to finish my visit. That's all."

"Urgent business in St. Joe?"

"No, Montana."

"But you just came from St. Joe."

"Yes, that's where I was when I got his telegram."

"Pardon my inquisitiveness, but how did you get from Montana to St. Joe?"

"By way of New Mexico. It's a long story that I won't bore you with."

"Please, by all means, bore me. We've a long ride."

'_Okay, Bart, you got yourself into this. Now get yourself out.' _He seemed to be having more and more conversations with himself these days. "I was injured in Montana. I went to recuperate with a friend. She needed to travel to St. Joe on business, so I went along." It was a little more complicated than that; when Samantha was involved it always was.

She laughed at his explanation. "I noticed you said the magic word. 'She.' Thus ends my curiosity."

"Oh, no, it's not what you think. I've known Samantha for a long time." The look she gave him told him she still didn't understand. "She is my wife's cousin."

Rose got very quiet, wondering if she'd hit a sore spot. "You're married?"

"I was. She's . . . . . gone."

"I'm so sorry. Was it recent?"

No, it just feels like yesterday. "A while back."

"And you're still traveling?"

"What else would I do?"

"Oh, I don't know, find a spot and stay there."

Was this part of Anderson's problem? His daughter wanted him to settle down? "Nope, not a good idea. Us Mavericks are noted for our wanderlust. None of us can stay in one place too long."

She looked at him expectantly. "There are more of you? How many?"

"My Pappy, my Uncle Ben, my brother Bret, my cousin Beau, and my sister, Jody. Well, Jody is sort of an adopted sister."

"My. And none of you is settled?"

"Well, Pappy and Ben live in Texas. They still travel around, but not as much. Jody and Beau are in Montana, I don't know for how long. And Brother Bret is . . . . let's see, where was he the last time I checked? In San Francisco, I believe."

She shook her head in disbelief. "They're scattered all over!"

"Yes, ma'am, they are. But we always seem to find each other if we're needed."

"I hate traveling. I can't imagine picking up and going all the time."

"And I can't imagine staying in one place."

"Have you ever given it any thought?"

Always present, Caroline crossed his mind. "Once."

"With your wife?" she asked.

"Yes." That 'let's change the topic of discussion' tone was in his voice. "So tell me, Miss Garrett, how is your father?"

"Rose, please. Father is the same as always. Happy, healthy, busy. No time for anything unless its name is poker. Or supper." She laughed at her little joke. Anderson Garrett did enjoy fine food. And fine wine. And fine cigars. And fine women. Bart wondered how much Rose knew about her father's vices.

"Does he still own the ranch in Carson City?"

"Oh yes, although I don't know why. He's hardly ever around anymore. Of course, with you coming to visit he's been there quite a bit."

"And he didn't go with you to Virginia City?" He was surprised that Anderson would let any daughter of his, much less one this beautiful, out of his sight.

"No, I was only gone a day. I had to visit the bank that holds my mother's estate." Anderson's wife had died some years back; she was rather wealthy and left everything to their daughter. That was fine with Anderson. It freed him to live life by his own rules and not have to worry about 'providing.'

Bart smiled at her and she was surprised by the warmth and sincerity in his smile. And for the first time since climbing into the coach she looked at him. Really looked at him. Dark hair and dark eyes, tall and thin, graceful and vulnerable at the same time. The whole coach lit up when he smiled.

But there was pain in his eyes, too, and it fascinated her. How had he been injured? How had he lost his wife? She foresaw a long talk with her father in her future. She wanted to know more about this Bart Maverick.


	2. Chapter 2 Elliott

Fool's Gold

Chapter 2 – Elliott

They continued to chat pleasantly enough until they got within a few miles of Carson City. Rose seemed to close a protective shell around herself at that point and 'chat' became scarce. The city had grown a lot since the last time Bart was here and he stopped everything but his observation of all the new storefronts and houses. And saloons. No wonder Anderson had relocated from New Orleans.

The stagecoach pulled up in front of the Wells Fargo office and Bart looked out into the smiling face of his friend. He hadn't seen Anderson since before the discovery of his heretofore unknown Aunt Jessie in Montana, though they had corresponded regularly while Bart sat in jail awaiting a trial that never should have happened. It was good to see recognition and joy in Anderson's face; that meant he looked more like himself and less like the fragile carcass he'd become due to his injuries and the illness that followed. He came out of the coach in a hurry and turned back to help Rose out before being enveloped in a bear hug by the older man.

"Bart, my boy, it's so good to see you! I had visions of greeting a skeleton but you look fit as a fiddle." Anderson turned loose of the young gambler and took his daughter's hand, placing a light kiss on her cheek. "Rose, I see you've met our guest already. Was he regaling you with his tall tales of daring do?"

The friendly, inquisitive young woman Bart conversed with on the journey was gone; in her place was a much stiffer, more somber person. "Father, Mr. Maverick and I introduced ourselves. There were no 'tall tales' of any kind."

Ouch. All warmth gone from her voice, Bart almost winced at the formality of her answer. What happened to alienate these two so dramatically? He had the feeling that would become all too evident in the coming days. Anderson looked up at the stage driver. "Come on, Jimmy, throw down Mr. Maverick's luggage." Jimmy rescued a lone bag and dropped it into Anderson's waiting arms. "Ah, Bart, still traveling light as ever I see."

Bart laughed and retrieved his cane from the coach. He still carried it with him, just in case. He used it every once-in-a-while when he was extremely tired; soon, he hoped, he could dispose of it permanently. Rose seemed startled to realize how badly he must have been injured. Apparently Anderson had not given his daughter much information when explaining Bart. That was alright with him, she'd soon enough discover whatever she wanted to know.

"Rose, dear, do you need anything in town before we head out to the ranch?" If Rose was unhappy with her father the feelings were not mutual; there was love and affection in Anderson's voice.

"Yes, father. I should have an order waiting at the store. I've already made arrangements to transport it and me home. You can go on ahead, I'll be along shortly. Mr. Maverick, I look forward to getting to know you better this evening." Bart tipped his hat and watched her walk down the sidewalk, spine stiff and proud.

"That's my proper young lady, Bart. Quite something, isn't she?"

Bart wasn't entirely sure how to take Anderson's question, so he chose the coward's way out. "Yes, Anderson, she certainly is."

"Here, I'm not thinking. Let's get you home, you must be tired from the trip. The buggy's over here." Anderson nodded his head in the direction of a buggy that sat on the other side of the street. He grabbed Bart by the arm, picked up the suitcase and hauled both of them to the waiting vehicle. Anderson made sure Bart could climb into the buggy without help, then slid in beside him and grabbed the reins. "Giddup," he ordered the horses and they took off at a good pace.

They rode for a few minutes before anyone spoke. "Don't take this the wrong way, Anderson. I appreciate the help and concern, but there's very little I can't do for myself these days."

His friend laughed, a genuine laugh, and shook his head. "I know, you've got a father and don't need another one. I just wanted to be sure before I quit worrying." He lowered his voice, almost to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell me you weren't hurt that bad. Your brother wrote and explained the whole story."

Bret. He should have known. Still playing big brother. "He lies, you know."

Anderson pulled the horses to a stop and searched his young friend's eyes. "They almost lost you. Three times. That was no lie."

His gaze was so intense that Bart turned away. "I know. I was there, remember?"

Garrett laughed again. "No, not really. I don't think you know what they all went through."

Time to lighten the mood. Things had gotten much too serious. "Okay, so I slept through most of it."

"There ya go. I'll buy that. Say, how about a good cigar?"

Was there any other kind as far as his friend was concerned? "Coming from you, I know it's the best. Sounds fine to me."

Anderson produced two cigars from his coat pocket, as well as a match. Bart took them, struck the match on the wagon and lit the first, passing it to the older man. He lit the second and breathed in the fine smell. "Ah, that's good. Samantha was a stickler about not smoking. Said my lungs needed to clear." He took another puff of the stogie and laughed. "My lungs didn't have the crap beat out of them."

Anderson said between teeth clutched around his cigar, "She was just trying to help. I'm sure she was worried, too."

"Yep." Bart sat back in the buggy and drew on the cigar. "I know you're right. But your telegram may have saved my life."

"How so?"

"The woman was about to drive me to drink."

With that answer they both laughed. "Yeah, they're good for that, aren't they?" Anderson asked seriously.

The mood changed considerably. Bart saw the worried look on his friend's face and asked, "What is it, Anderson? Why did you need me here?"

There was an extended silence and then Anderson simply said, "I think what Rose has gotten mixed up in is going to get her killed."

XXXXXXXX

Rose Garrett crossed the street to 'Standers Emporium and General Store.' She walked inside and was immediately struck by the overwhelming pull she felt towards the clerk behind the counter. Elliott Stander was everything a young woman might want in a man – good-looking in a mysterious kind of way, with dark, longish hair and dark blue eyes. He was polite, soft-spoken and charmed every woman who entered the store. He'd particularly charmed Rose, and she thought herself to be in love with him. He turned on his charm as soon as he saw her.

"Pa," he yelled to the back of the store. "Miss Garrett's here. Come tend the counter so I can load her order and deliver it for her."

His father came bounding out of the back room, an older and grayer version of Elliott. "Miss Garrett, so nice to see you today. Is your Pa in town?"

She smiled prettily at Herb Stander. "He was, Mr. Stander. We have company visiting and Father came to pick him up. They've gone back to the ranch now."

"You tell him I said hello, you here?"

"I will, Mr. Stander. Thank you."

Elliott took her elbow and guided Rose outside. He helped her up into the wagon and then finished loading it. Then he joined her and they began their trip. Once they were out of town he pulled off into a stand of trees and turned to her. "You didn't say anything about a visitor."

She closed her sun umbrella and folded her gloved hands into her lap. "It's just a friend of my fathers." She didn't share with Elliott that it was a young, good-looking friend of her fathers. Let him believe whatever he wanted; it would do him good.

"Rose, darling, talk to me. I missed you." He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. She pulled away from him.

"Elliott, not here. Anyone could come along this road and see us. Do you want my father to know?"

He snorted in derision. "Your father isn't stupid. Don't you think he already knows?"

"I don't know," she answered petulantly. "I'd rather not find out just now."

He tried a different approach. "Rose, I love you. When are you going to marry me?"

"Soon, Elliott. I promise." She looked around to see if there was anyone approaching their hiding pace. Good, they were still alone.

Elliott Stander didn't like the turn this meeting had taken. He had everything so carefully planned out. Now there was this visitor. He needed to find out just who this person was. "So who is this friend of your fathers? You bought an awful lot of fancy food and wine."

"You know how my father is. He likes to entertain."

"And the friend?"

"Another gambler. Bart Maverick. They've know each other for several years."

Stander had a picture in his mind of a gambler friend of Rose's father, but the vision certainly didn't look like Bart. Rose again failed to mention the age of her father's friend. Whether deliberate or not on her part was uncertain. She didn't want to fight with Elliott right now, but she didn't want to answer any more questions, either. "Elliott, we need to go."

He didn't answer her but he let the horses pull the wagon back out into the road. _'Be careful, Elliott,'_ he thought to himself. To Rose he said, "When can I see you again?"

She hesitated. "I don't know – I have to stay home for a while, since we have company. I'll come back to town in a few days. I'll let you know." The remainder of the trip out to the Garrett Ranch was made in silence.


	3. Chapter 3 Udley's Farm

Fool's Gold

Chapter 3 – Udley's Farm

"Rose, that was a fine meal." Bart hadn't had a dinner as good as that one in a long time. He and Anderson and Rose sat on the front porch of the ranch house, the two men smoking cigars and holding Brandy snifters. Bart's had a miniscule amount of the amber colored liquid in his, more as a courtesy than anything else, Anderson's was full. Rose drank tea. The evening was mild and pleasant, with a cool wind from the south and just the slight smell of rain on the breeze.

"Are you sure? You certainly didn't eat a lot, Mr. Maverick." Rose seemed disturbed by Bart's small appetite.

"Never did," Anderson remarked. "Keeps telling me his brother could always out eat him, but I just don't think the Maverick's much care for food."

"Now, Anderson, you know that isn't true. I just haven't had much of an appetite since . . . . well, you know when." Bret had always teased his younger brother about the amount of food he ate, or rather didn't eat, and it hadn't gotten any better since the year they spent in Montana. "Besides, it isn't quantity that counts. It's quality. And that was excellent food." He glanced at his host. "A daughter that looks like this and can cook? You should have a line of men out the door wanting to marry her!"

Anderson and Rose exchanged looks and Rose cleared her throat. "He would, Mr. Maverick, if I would let him."

Bart took a draw on the cigar and blew the smoke out. "Please, Rose, Mr. Maverick is my Pappy. Or my uncle. Or even on a bad day, my brother Bret. I'm Bart."

Rose giggled quite sweetly. "I'm sorry Bart, I just keep forgetting. Father's friends are usually so . . . ."

"Old," her father supplied.

" . . . much closer to his age than mine. I'm in the habit of addressing them all as Mr."

Bart had to laugh at that. "Do you think of your Father as 'The Ancient Mariner?' He's not that much older than me."

Anderson laughed, too. It was nice to have Rose in a good mood for a change. "Only on the days I try to get up before noon."

"Noon? What's that?" There was a time when Bart wouldn't have been kidding. For quite a while now he had forgone staying up all night in order to rest and recuperate.

"I'll see if I can reacquaint you with the dangers of being awake in the daytime," Garrett volunteered. "Got to get you back in poker playing shape."

"That's going to take a lot of practice." Rose stood to go inside and Bart stood up with her.

"Please, Bart, stay here. You all may not need your beauty sleep but I do. Besides, I want to get things ready for breakfast tomorrow, and I'm sure you two would like some time alone."

He held the door for her and then sat back down, tucking the tails of his coat as he was inclined to do. He turned to Garrett with a question. "Does she eavesdrop?"

"Not usually. I didn't raise her to be nosy. Neither did her mother. Course who knows what she does nowadays. Sometimes it's like I don't even know her, Bart."

"We all grow up, Anderson."

"It's not just that. She's been seeing someone – someone that seems to have ulterior motives. Elliott Stander. Father owns the general store in town. Nice enough boy on the surface. Polite, charming, good looking. Works in the store six days a week."

"So?"

"There's a passel of 'em that was raised together. Five or six in the bunch, all polite and charming. Not one of 'em worth the price of a bullet, far as I'm concerned. Been in and out of trouble, everybody lets 'em off because 'they're good kids.' Petty criminals, the whole lot of 'em. Including her boyfriend. They're planning something, I know it. I can feel it in my bones. She's covered for him, more than once. Lied about where he was, what he was doing. Who he was doing it with. Whatever he's planning to do, she's involved in. They all think there's something better out there and an easier way to get it than by working for it." Garrett took a long drink of the brandy. "We've had words about it, more than once. She just defends him, says I don't know what I'm talking about. Won't discuss it with me. I wanted somebody closer to her own age, somebody she would talk to. It sure isn't me anymore."

"Why do you think she'll talk to me? She doesn't even know me."

Anderson shook his head. "But I know you. I think she's just bursting to tell somebody, and it sure isn't her father. Deep down I think she knows it's wrong and wants to stop it and she just doesn't know how. Maybe she'll tell you what it is."

Bart was skeptical, to say the least. But if Anderson thought there was something going on and he needed Bart's help, by God, he had it. The older gambler had opened the younger gamblers eyes about a few things a while back that may have saved Bart's relationship with his brother. And given him friendship and support when he needed it most, sitting in a lonely jail cell falsely accused of murder.

"Are you going to feel up to going to one of my favorite saloons tomorrow?"

"Sure. You have a favorite?"

"In town? Yes. It's called 'Around the Bend' Saloon. I don't know why. But they stock the best brandy, carry the best cigars and have the prettiest girls in town. And the worst poker players. Figure your poke's got to be getting mighty thin by now. Cards at the Bend should be easy pickings for you."

Bart tried to cough and laugh at the same time. "Not real sharp right now, friend. Poker could be a learning experience."

Anderson shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I'll put my money on you any day over the locals. After playing against most of them for close to two years there still isn't one decent poker player in the bunch. They never change! Thank God! Or I'd be flat broke!"

They both laughed at the joke, then Bart stretched and yawned. Between the long coach ride, the fine food and good cigars and brandy, and the intense conversation, he was worn out. "I'm done, Anderson. My old man habits have kicked in. I need to sleep." He stood up and grasped Anderson's hand firmly in his. "I hope you understand. It's gonna be a while before 'normal' kicks back in for me."

The older man stood and grabbed him in another bear hug. "I'm just so relieved you're here I don't care. Your people in Montana weren't the only ones praying for you. It's nice to know there's still somebody listening every once in a while."

XXXXXXXX

Elliott joined his 'friends' once his father told him he could go on home. They all met out at the old Udley place, in the back of the barn where they couldn't be seen. Billy Joe still hadn't gotten there but he was due any minute. Elliott decided they could start without him; he wouldn't wait any longer. "Look, there's been a complication. Rose's old man's got a visitor out at the ranch. Some old scruff named Maverick. Rose says he's another gambler. I need to know who he is and what he's up to."

"You need to know?" Tommy Statford asked. "Who put you in charge?"

"Whose plan is this?" Elliott glared at Tommy, then turned his gaze to the others. "And who's got to marry the girl? If we want to pull this off I need to know all I can about this guy. Where he came from, how long he's gonna be around, if we need to get rid of him. I can't find out all this stuff. YOU need to. So we can decide whether to outwait him or outwit him. Jonesy, didn't you say you had an uncle in New Orleans? Send him a telegram and see what you can find out. Tommy, take the stage tomorrow and go to Virginia City. There's a dealer over there in the Bar Belle Saloon that used to work in San Francisco. You see what he knows. Jackson, go with him and check the stage line back and find out where this guy came from. And Wickham, there's a little piece of the Garrett order that didn't come in until late this afternoon. You ride out to the ranch and deliver it; see what this guy looks like. Talk to Rose, she likes you. Meet back here in two days. We'll decide what we need to do. Remember how much there is at stake here. And keep your mouths shut. We've come too far to turn back now."


	4. Chapter 4 A Storm's a Comin'

Fool's Gold

Chapter 4 – A Storm's a Comin'

His stomach was killing him when he came down to the table the next morning. All that rich food! And the brandy, even though it was a small amount. He hoped Rose hadn't gone to too much trouble this morning, because the only thing he wanted right now was coffee.

No one was in the kitchen but there was a fresh pot of coffee on the stove. He found a cup and poured himself one, opening up the door to take it to the porch. He got halfway out the door and stopped, frozen in horror at how much this reminded him of the Double C Ranch. There she was again, every time he turned around recently. Why now? It had been over two years since he lost her and still she stayed in his head. He'd be fine for a few days or weeks and then she'd pop up again, just like a gopher. Bret was right about one thing; the nightmares caused by what happened in Silver Creek, Montana receded but the memories of Caroline stayed. He forced himself to take three more steps forward and he was on the porch, looking down at Rose. She was a welcome sight; she was beautiful and distracted him from memories.

"Good morning, Rose," he greeted her.

"Good morning, Bart," she answered. "I didn't know that gamblers were capable of rising this early."

"We aren't. It's an illusion we foster by staying up all night." He smiled as he said it so she'd know he was kidding.

She took him seriously, however. "You didn't . . . . "

He stopped her. "No. I was kidding. It's a bad habit I developed while recuperating. Rising early, I mean."

"I'm sure you'll get over it, given enough time."

"That's what they tell me," came his reply "Do you mind if I join you?" He indicated the chair next to her.

"Please. Father won't be up for hours. I'm afraid you're stuck with me until then." She paused to offer a suggestion. "We could go riding. Ethan can have the horses saddled in five minutes. Are you game?"

He hesitated because of his stomach but decided it might take his mind off things. "Alright. Give me a minute and I'll be back."

She smiled, set her now empty cup on the chair, and started for the barn. If she helped Ethan with the horses they could be ready in five minutes.

Bart walked back inside and went to his room. He finished his coffee in a hurry and strapped on his gun belt, attaching the leg ties carefully. Checked the cartridges to make sure the gun was fully loaded. It was a habit he'd developed since that morning. Then he grabbed his hat and went back downstairs. By the time he got back to the front porch Rose was waiting for him, having already been dressed to ride. She had a bay mare and a black gelding saddled and as soon as she saw him come out the door she swung up on the bay and waited. He was still a little hesitant when mounting, but once seated he was comfortable. They took off at a slow canter and rode down hills and around valleys, over creeks and through streams, a grand tour of the entire property. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and he could understand why Anderson bought the ranch. A man could get lost here, with the right woman. He looked over at Rose, her hair streaming out behind her in waves of chocolate, her back so straight in the saddle, her eyes shining in the bright light of morning. She was a beautiful girl – no, she was a beautiful woman. She fit handsomely on the back of a horse. They'd been riding for hours and it suddenly dawned on him that his stomach was no longer upset. And his back, which usually felt tender after this long on a horse, wasn't bothering him at all. There was something else that hadn't been with him for the longest time – a sense of peace. All seemed right with the world again.

Then a crash of thunder and a crack of lightening. Where had that come from? And then again, and they turned their horses and headed for the ranch house, racing against the weather to beat the sudden storm. His horse caught hers at the last moment just as the sky opened up and rain poured on them from all angles. They were both laughing like idiots and soaked to the skin by the time they reached the house. She jumped off her mount and he followed, chasing her up onto the porch until he caught her and they slipped and fell on the wet boards. She rolled up into his arms and they laid there for a minute, dripping wet and laughing, and she curled up tight against him. The temptation was too much and he kissed her, a long slow kiss that seemed to last forever. She didn't pull away and leaned into him even further, and he felt her warmth and knew he had to stop. He let loose of her and rolled away, until there was enough space between them that he could get to his feet. Once righted he caught her hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. He looked down into those beautiful green eyes and was lost for just a moment.

The moment passed and he pulled back from her. This wasn't right. This was Anderson's daughter, for God's sake, and the last person on earth he could afford to get involved with. Yet the only thing in the world he wanted to do was kiss her again. He took another step back and let go of her. "I'm sorry, Rose." The apology seemed small and insignificant, yet it was the only words he had for her.

She tossed her wet hair out of her face and looked at this stranger whom she had known for less than twenty-four hours. "I'm not," she answered as she pulled her hat off and brushed the water from her. She dropped the hat on a chair and went inside the house, leaving him on the porch, soaking wet and shaken to the core.

XXXXXXXX

He heard the horses depart and knew he could safely get out of bed. Rose would never forgive him if she knew he'd played a trick on her but that was part of being a father. The question was would Bart forgive him? He worried less about that. Right now both of them were in need of a measure of happiness and Anderson thought they'd be good for each other. Besides, if he had to choose between Bart and Elliott there was no choice. He liked Elliott but didn't trust him; he trusted Bart and loved him almost like a son. He couldn't pick a better man for Rose. Bart was a gentleman, dependable and honorable; in spite of his own opinion of himself; he'd survived things most men wouldn't have. And the only man he knew who could be every bit as stubborn as his daughter. If his attempt at matchmaking worked, so be it. If it didn't, he hoped the attraction he'd seen almost immediately between Rose and Bart would drive any thoughts of marrying Elliott from her mind.

He was actually humming as he got dressed. Tonight would be entertaining. It had been a while since there was anyone around that he enjoyed playing poker against as much as Bart. At long last he would have someone to challenge his skills and his mental acuity, someone who could actually beat him. He was excited at the prospect that he could lose; it presented a challenge.

He had more than enough time to shave and get cleaned up. Then downstairs for coffee and by the time he was indulging in his second cup he realized that Rose must have taken Bart out for a tour of the ranch. Good, let him see and fall in love with it as he had. How could you not? It was everything a man could want. Even a gambling man.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a storm. The thunder and lightning cracked and the rains came. A few short minutes later he heard approaching horses and realized they were caught in the downpour. Better get back to his bedroom before Rose suspected anything. Then they were running across the porch and just when he anticipated being caught scheming with his daughter's life – two 'thumps' that sounded like bodies hitting the ground. Aha, the porch was wet and slippery and they had no doubt fallen. Then all was still and quiet for a minute. Were they injured? No, he heard movement. It gave him a chance to get back upstairs and allow them to think him still asleep.


	5. Chapter 5 Around the Bend

Fool's Gold

Chapter 5 – Around the Bend

Bart was certainly not expecting this grand a 'saloon' in Carson City. The place looked like someone had built and decorated it in San Francisco or New Orleans and then picked it up and moved it, en masse, to Nevada. Luxurious, opulent, lavish, and magnificent had all been used to describe the surroundings, sometimes in the same sentence. Anderson was as proud as if he'd built it himself. There was a bar, a cigar room, a performance hall and two gambling halls – one for games such as roulette and twenty-one, the other strictly for poker. Of course the local professional took the younger visitor on a tour of the gaming establishment and had to make his first stop in the bar. Bart passed on the liquor but did have a cup of the freshly ground black carada coffee that the saloon kept stocked for those who had acquired a taste for it – thanks to Anderson's import of it from New Orleans to begin with. It was no doubt the best coffee he'd ever tasted. Anderson started drinking whiskey but quickly switched to brandy. "I stay more clear headed that way," he told Bart.

They sat in the cigar room and smoked the fine blends that the saloon stocked from Maryland and New York. After meeting several of Anderson's poker playing friends, the two professional gamblers finally wandered into Mecca – the poker room. The room was intimate and tastefully decorated. No trail hands or drunken cowboys here – these were the business owners, politicians, ranchers and bankers of Carson City. Anderson and Bart played at the same table for a while, but it soon became evident that Maverick's poker playing skills were not in need of a tune-up.

Several of Garrett's contemporaries came in and started a game at the last available table and Anderson excused himself to join them. Soon Bart was in control at his game and wining steadily; the pots kept increasing in size. The table played for another two hours and then Bart saw Garrett become enmeshed in what looked like a mild 'discussion' with another man in his group. Anderson never raised his voice but the other player got louder and louder until something unpleasant was said and Garrett took umbrage at it. Carson City's resident gambler stood up, gathered his money and threw his cards down. Without a word he left the table, then the entire room and headed back to the bar. Bart had never seen his friend incensed that way and as soon he'd played out his hand he made his apologies and withdrew.

Bart caught up with the gambler and ordered another coffee. He stood quietly next to Anderson and watched him drink a brandy. A whole glass. Slowly he could see the anger in the older man being pacified by the liquor and its calming affects. He waited for Anderson to start talking. When he did, it was very quietly.

"Sorry about the histrionics. Fred Patrick. That's the trouble maker. Those friends of Elliott Standers I told you about? One of 'em is Jackson Patrick, Fred's son. Seems Fred's the town council member who's the liaison to the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. They built a line from Virginia City to Carson City and now they want to run that line through to Reno. Just so happens they want to swing it through my land and cut the whole north end into pieces. I've turned down half a dozen offers for the property and told Fred more times than I can remember that they need to find a new route but he can't seem to hear the word 'no.' Now every time I see him he's on me about it. I've asked him not to bother me when I'm working' but he just keeps at it. That's what all that was about. Short story. Long explanation." Anderson shook his head and finished the brandy. He signaled the bartender for another.

"How long has this been in the works, Anderson?"

"I don't want to remember. Over a year now. They wanted to start building the line last fall but I won't sell. They've been getting pushy for the last six months or so. Since right before you left Montana."

Bart wasn't happy with that information. He'd been sitting in New Mexico doing nothing with Samantha and Bret instead of trying to help his friend. "Do they have an alternative proposal?"

"Yes, of course. It involves a southern crossing, and it cuts the south end of the ranch in more pieces than the north. Isn't that delightful? It's the Civil War all over again, only over my ranch."

Bart pressed a little harder. "Those are the only two choices?"

Garrett laughed, an ironic sounding laugh. "Nope, there's a third proposal that avoids my land altogether. But it cuts through the Bennett place and that's right where the river comes in. Have to re-route the whole damned river to make that work. Too expensive."

"They've got to be getting close to decision time, don't they?" Bart was worried that the decision had already been made.

Anderson shook his head again. "Council meeting is next week. They have to come to a conclusion to present to the governor the next time he's in town. That should be at the end of the month."

Not much time either way. Bart laid his hand on Anderson's shoulder. "Why don't we go home and finish this in the morning? When we can talk without being overheard?"

The brandy glass, now empty, was left sitting on the bar. "Son, that's the best idea I've listened to all night. Let's do that."

Just as they turned to leave Anderson saw another man coming their way. "Oh Lord, spare me! Not Oscar Jones in the same night!" From the look of determination on the approaching man's face, Bart readied himself for another round of verbal warfare.

XXXXXXXX

Fred Patrick was none too happy with Anderson Garrett's reaction at the poker table. Bad enough he'd pushed the gambler too far and caused the scene, but he sat there afterwards and watched the younger man at the table next to them get up and follow Garrett out. That must be the visitor his son Jackson told him about. Great, another con man to deal with. Having one in town was dangerous enough; they didn't need a second one getting in the way.

It was his intention to simply prod Garrett into making a decision about the railroad land. The council had offered him any amount of money to decide which piece he was going to sell them and for almost a year he refused to give them an answer. Now they were up against a deadline and there was no more time to waste. Whatever it took to get Anderson's attention was fair game. Including intimidation, if necessary. So Fred had taken one more stab at trying to push a resolution to the dilemma but had failed miserably. So miserably, in fact, that what had been a private matter between the ranch owner and the town council was now a very public one. And a decision had to be made.

Now what were they going to do? True, there was a third choice available for the railroad access land, but cutting across the Bennett ranch instead of the Garrett spread was a poor decision at best. The land was too far west and would cost the Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company too much money. Which meant a much smaller 'gratuity' for Fred. And almost one year longer to build the western route. Fred muttered to himself, "Damn card sharp. Stubborn mule."

Oscar Jones was not pleased by this turn of events. He'd told Patrick repeatedly to 'back off' from his constant harassment of Garret, that there was another way to handle the roadblock, but Fred had money on his brain and wouldn't listen. Jones son Mortimer, or Jonesy as he was known, kept reassuring his father that the boys had a plan of action that would soon come to fruition and to just let the 'gang of six' handle things. Oscar tried to convince Fred that everything was under control but the councilman refused to listen. Now Oscar was forced into action to calm the situation down.

He asked to be dealt out of the next hand and followed Anderson and Bart into the bar. It looked like he was none too soon, they appeared to be leaving. He had to clear the air before things got any worse.

XXXXXXXX

"Anderson, I couldn't help but hear the altercation with Fred. I'm sorry he bothered you, we've told him repeatedly to let the matter rest until you make a decision. I hope he didn't upset your evening too much." Oscar inserted every note of sincerity in his voice that he could manage.

The gambler looked more frustrated than angry. "Get your dog under control, would you Oscar?" He turned to the younger man standing at his elbow. "Bart, this is Oscar Jones, a member of the town council and the head of the 'property procurement committee.' Oscar, this is my friend Bart Maverick. He's come to spend a while with Rose and me out at the ranch. It was supposed to be a pleasant visit."

Jones tipped his hat to Bart and shook his hand. "Mr. Maverick, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm sorry for the disturbance that Mr. Patrick caused. Are you a gambler or just a poker enthusiast?"

Bart shook his head no. "Just an old friend, Mr. Jones. Come to Carson City for some entertainment and amusement." He thought about it for a minute. "And more of Rose Garrett's fine cooking."

"Ah yes, Rose Garrett has many talents, one of which is food preparation. Well, I shan't keep you two gentlemen any longer, it's gotten quite late. Mr. Maverick, a pleasure. Anderson, again sorry that Fred bothered you. We'll see you next week, yes?"

Anderson gave a weary nod of his head. "Yes, Oscar, I'll be at the next meeting. See if you can keep Fred in a pen for a while, would you? I'd like some peace and quiet for a change. Goodnight." He turned away from Oscar Jones and back to the bar, as if ready for another drink.

Bart tipped his hat to Jones and said "Mr. Jones, goodnight." Then he too turned back to the bar and Anderson. They both waited for a few minutes and then Anderson checked to see if Oscar was gone. He was.

"Come on, Bart, let's get out of here before someone else prevents it. I've had my fill of town council members for one night."


	6. Chapter 6 Fools Rush In

Fool's Gold

Chapter 6 – Fools Rush In

Old habits die hard, and given the opportunity to resurface they usually will. For the first time in quite a while Bart slept past daybreak, much later than he'd intended. The original plan was to ride out to look over the two proposed pieces of land the railroad wanted to buy. At least he'd have a better understanding of what Anderson was facing. Of course that would have probably meant another ride with Rose, and after yesterday he wasn't so sure that was a good idea. So he'd 'deliberately' slept late, hoping that he and Anderson could take the ride instead.

Much to his relief, when he came downstairs Rose was nowhere to be seen. Anderson was drinking coffee leisurely at the table and he looked up and smiled, glad to see Bart none the worse for wear. There was already an empty cup on the table for him, and Bart poured one and sat down. "One night out late too much for you?" Anderson grinned slyly.

Bart chuckled and shook his head. "No, Mr. Garrett, waiting to make sure you were up."

"Don't let this old fox fool you, son, I don't sleep near as long as my daughter thinks I do."

Curiosity got the best of him. "Where is Rose this morning?"

Anderson's turn to shake his head. "Darned if I know. That girl's got more hiding places than the sky's got stars. Want to wait for her to turn up before looking at the land? Or better yet, I can go get some work done and Rose can take you out."

Maverick was quick to answer. "No, I'd rather see it from your perspective."

A little too quick for the older gambler's liking. "Something wrong? Rose hasn't already alienated you, too, has she?"

Better straighten this out in a hurry. "No, no, I'd just rather see everything through your eyes on this particular deal."

'_Oh, oh,_' Anderson thought_. 'Something's happened. NOW what did Rose do?' _Instead he said, "Sure, I understand. Now's as good a time as any, if you're inclined. I just need five minutes to get ready."

Bart chuckled again. What was it with the Garrett family and five minutes? "Let me get some more of this coffee in me, Anderson. You in a big hurry for some reason?"

"Nope, just promised Rose we'd be home for dinner tonight. She wants to see if she can get you to eat more. I told her she could try."

Bart shrugged in response. "You know me. Never been big on eating except when there's no money and no food to be had."

"I remember those days too well."

"At least I won't have one anytime soon thanks to your poker club last night."

"That's not the only place in town, you know. Just the best. Next we'll go to 'Mitzi's Hole in the Wall' and see how our half lives."

"You mean the poor and down trodden?"

"That's it exactly. I like the clientele better, but the accoutrements are not as lavish."

"Where the whiskey is safer to drink than the coffee?" Another small joke from Bart that was all too true sometimes.

"Touché."

Both men laughed enthusiastically. Anderson got up to get ready and Bart finished his coffee. He decided not to take the black handled .45 that had been his saving grace in Montana. This time he added a gift from Bret, his Remington derringer, to a small shoulder holster underneath his buckskin jacket. Something warned him he might need it.

The more he thought about the railroad deal the less he liked the sound of it. There was something fishy going on here and he intended to find out exactly what it was. If there was, indeed, a third choice when it came to building the railroad, why not take it? Did the river really block the only possible route? Or was it just easier to grab somebody else's land? He heard Anderson back downstairs and checked the derringer one more time. All set.

Looked like Bart's luck would hold. Ethan brought two horses over from the barn, again the black stallion and a buckskin that Anderson favored. The gamblers mounted and set out for the southern route, closer to the house. The land looked different than it had yesterday. Maybe that's because he actually saw the land today, since there was no pretty young woman riding with him. The amount of acreage that the Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company intended to buy was astonishing. It looked like they were going to build an entire city rather than a railroad line. He certainly understood what Anderson meant about the land being cut up into pieces. The majority of the sparse grazing area in the south would be destroyed; and the noise and dirt of the trains themselves would lay waste to most of the routes to water.

They rode on after thoroughly inspecting almost every hill and curve on the southern parcel; it took them a while to get to the northern piece. This layout was the town council's primary goal – and to lose land this beautiful would be a crime. Rich in green and grasses in contrast to the southern section, and full of beautiful trees and plentiful water, the vista would never be the same. The area was also loaded with small, hidden caves and hills that disguised the abundant wildlife in the area. They saw mule deer and bucks, coyotes, and black bear cubs. Anderson made sure they stayed their distance; neither of them needed a terrified mount. Bart was glad to be on the stallion again – the horse seemed well suited to him. Big and powerful, he was still extremely responsive to the man astride him. And gentle as a newborn lamb.

It was mid-afternoon as they finished the exploration of the areas and they were about to turn back to the ranch when something caught Bart's eye. Just a glint of something shiny in a place where there should be no shiny things. He yelled at Anderson, who'd ridden up ahead, and turned back to the area where the attraction was. It took him a few minutes to climb the steep terrain and find the right angle, but he finally spotted the shiny object outside of a rather obscure cave entrance. He rode up and dismounted and reached for the objet in the grass. It was a watch fob, inscribed with the initials 'E.S' and had become disattached from the watch it belonged to. Bart pocketed the piece and pretended to be looking for it when Anderson rode up.

"Find something?" inquired his host.

"Nope. Thought I saw something shiny in the grass but there's nothing here. Guess I was mistaken. Sorry for callin' you back."

"It could've been anything you saw; kids used to come up here and play before the bears moved in. One of them could have dropped something."

"I'm sure that's it," Bart agreed. He was certain that the fob belonged to a man, not a boy, but he'd do the investigating himself before divulging its presence outside the cave. He mounted the stallion and he and Anderson resumed their ide to the ranch.

What was in the cave that was so interesting? Why had Elliot Stander been there? And was he alone or was Rose with him? Bart didn't have answers to those questions yet, but he would before he was through.

XXXXXXXX

While Rose was cooking dinner, the 'gang of six' met to disseminate what they'd uncovered. Once again they were at the abandoned Udley farm and this time Billy Joe was on time.

Elliott wanted to know what everyone'd learned, so he started with the man who might have the most important information, Tommy Statford. "What did the dealer at the Bar Belle know? Anything we can use?"

"Some, but not a lot. Maverick's a card sharp, from a family of 'em. Really strange, thought, they're honest. Ever heard of an honest card sharp? Neither had the dealer, but he'd played against this guy's brother and says the whole family is the same way. Unless you cheat 'em, then they know how to cheat back. Says they're all in different places but they always seem to find each other when needed. Don't cross one or you get the whole bunch of 'em."

Elliott wasn't happy with what he heard. "Jonesy, how about you? Get an answer from New Orleans?"

Mortimer Jones shrugged his shoulders. "Sort of. Not much except this – Garrett was in New Orleans over a year ago with two Mavericks – this Bart fella and his cousin. Said they were all three playin' poker and winnin' regularly and spendin' it as fast as they won it. Somethin' happened and the Mavericks up and left, and never came back. That's all my uncle could find out."

"Huh. Wonder what it was pulled 'em away?" Elliott turned to the next member of the group. "Jackson, what'd you get?"

Jackson Patrick looked unhappy. "Cost me $20 to find out that Maverick came out here from St. Joe. Before that he traveled from New Mexico. Nothin' much before that."

"Wickham, what did Rose have to say?"

Wickham Ford had gathered the least amount of information. "Rose was home alone. I never got to see this Maverick fella. And Rose sure was close mouthed about the guy. Couldn't get nothin' out of her but a big ole smile every time I asked a question. Don't that beat all?"

A frown found its way across Elliott's face. "Doesn't tell us nothin'. He's a card sharp who knows how to cheat but doesn't, strange family, been all over the country, and we still don't know what he looks like or what he's doin' here. Guess I need to see this fella. You're sure not a lot of help." Stander was so disgusted with the lack of useful information that he picked up his coat and walked back outside to his horse. "I'm leavin.' I'll be in touch." And with that he was gone, in a straight line to the Garrett ranch.

XXXXXXXX

Rose caught herself humming. She hadn't done that in a while. Her father promised her that he and Bart would be back for dinner, and she wanted to make sure everything was right.

She laughed to herself. Two days ago she thought the one thing that would make her happiest in the world would be to marry Elliott. Now she wondered where she ever got that idea. Maybe from Elliott?

It was all so romantic at first. They'd marry and live on the ranch while her father traveled – raise a family there – grow old together and die there. But Elliott had started pressing her for a commitment – a permanent commitment - and she'd begun to get cold feet. Then her father announced they were going to have a visitor – an 'old' friend. She'd ridden in the coach all the way from Virginia City with the visitor and found out a few things. The man was smart, funny, good-looking and a true gentleman. She liked him. And Elliott didn't seem like such a sure thing anymore.

She heard a horse and assumed it was them. Wait, there was only one horse. Who?

When she opened the front door, there stood Elliott Stander. "I couldn't wait until you came into town," he blurted out as he attempted to sweep her into his arms.

She tried to push away from him. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I don't care if your father is home! I don't care if he sees us! I love you!"

She pushed against him harder. "Elliott! Stop it! My father isn't even here!"

A sudden lack of enthusiasm. "He isn't?"

"No," she answered. "He isn't. What's gotten in to you?"

"So wait, you're all alone?" He couldn't believe his bad timing.

"No, Ethan is out behind the house. Like always. Why do you want to know?"

He better think of something quick. Before she suspected he was up to something. "I've come to ask for your hand in marriage."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Why not now?"

"Because he's not here." Clever girl.

"Well where is he?"

Should she give him an answer? Was he crazy? Why all of a sudden, for heaven's sake? "He and Ba – Mr. Maverick – went out this morning to look at the railroad land. They aren't back yet."

"Oh." All of the eagerness, passion, excitement and bravado seemed to drain right out of the young store clerk as the realization hit him that even he was not going to find out what this stranger looked like. This uninvited, unwelcome interruption to their – his – plans. And then, by some stroke of fate, Anderson Garrett and Bart Maverick returned to the ranch. Rose could see them coming over the hill that led to the little valley the ranch house resided in. Her father led the way on the buckskin; Bart's black followed.

Elliott Stander watched Rose's eyes come alive as she saw the two men and wondered. He'd never seen her look like that when she saw him. Just who was this fellow? He turned on the porch to watch the riders approach. He gave little notice to Anderson. The gambler was well known and liked in the city, even by his own father. The younger man, however, caught and held his attention. You could see he was tall but slender; the black stallion was a big horse but Maverick owned that mount. Dark hair, dark eyes, handsome man; much younger than he supposed any friend of Rose's father to be. They both rode up to the corral and dismounted. The younger man moved with any easy grace as he walked over to the house. That's when Elliott Stander decided it was time to stake his claim.

He grabbed Rose and kissed her. She tried to push him away but he was stronger than she was. She struggled with him and he kissed her again, to emphasize his point. That's when he heard the order. It came from Maverick. "Turn her loose, Mr. Stander. Now."

Elliott let loose of Rose and whirled to face the advancing card sharp. Like the hot headed fool he'd recently turned into he reached for the knife he carried inside his coat, fully intent on showing the intruder that Rose was his and he would do as he pleased. Rose grabbed for his arm and missed, but before he could get his fingers on the blade he was looking down the barrel of a derringer. Where had that come from? "Back away from the lady, Mr. Stander. She's had enough of you for tonight."

Bad enough he was beaten. He'd been made to look foolish in Rose's eyes. How could he let himself get into this mess, after all the careful planning he'd done? Damn!


	7. Chapter 7 Gambler's Daughter

Fool's Gold

Chapter 7 – Gambler's Daughter

"Tell me the truth, Rose. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Those words from a very concerned father. It was a good thing that Anderson was occupied with the horses when Bart and Elliott had their first meeting. He wouldn't have liked what he saw from Herb Stander's son.

By the time he got to the porch of his house it was all over. Elliott mumbled something unintelligible and left. Rose stood there, dumbfounded, and tried to figure out what just happened. And Bart was unimpressed, either by Elliott Stander or the crazy stunt he'd just pulled.

"I'm alright, Poppa. Honestly. He didn't hurt me."

Anderson was startled to hear the term of affection that Rose hadn't used in quite a while. He still wasn't sure exactly what happened; all he knew was that Bart put an end to it. "You're a handy man to have around."

Bart looked at his friend. "I've heard that before. Usually I just get in the way." He smiled as he said the last part, trying to lighten the darkened mood. He'd talk to Rose later and find out what prompted Elliott's actions. For now it seemed best to let it go.

Rose looked at Bart with gratitude. If there was anything to be salvaged with Elliott then her father needed to be none-the-wiser about what had happened. "Thank you."

Bart tipped his hat to Rose. "My pleasure."

XXXXXXXX

Another fine meal served at the Garrett ranch. Rose was pleased because the scene at the front door hadn't done anything to diminish appetites and Bart actually ate enough to satisfy her. The trip to town to visit 'Mitzi's' was put off for a night; everyone had enough excitement for one day. Anderson had a glass of Courvoisier Cognac from his personal imported stock and retired early, leaving Rose and Bart to talk. The night air was slightly chilly and Bart started a fire in the fireplace for warmth. He skipped the coffee for a change and actually indulged in a small glass of the superior cognac. Quite an indulgence for him, but the day spent riding and the arrival at home had proven challenging and it was an indulgence he could well afford.

He lit one of the finely rolled cigars that Anderson kept on hand and settled in at the fireplace, comfortable and warm. Rose watched the flames as they licked at the wood and tried to figure out what provoked Elliott into his display of irrationality. Finally she gave up and shook her head. "I have no idea."

"You have no idea about what?" Bart responded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I said that out loud." Rose paused for a moment, as if deciding whether to raise the issue or not. Why not? "I have no idea what caused Elliott to behave like that."

"Don't you?" That was Bart's response, unexpected to her.

She shook her head again, as if to emphasize her answer. "No, I really don't. He just showed up here unexpectedly and acted like he'd lost his mind."

"Without giving you a reason?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "Without giving me a reason. Started babbling something about being in love and wanting to marry me and not being willing to wait. Then he just went crazy."

Bart took another draw off of the cigar; Rose continued to watch the fire. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going to marry him?" It was a reasonable question, asked by a mostly reasonable man. And one that he wanted the answer to.

"Not just now." She was hedging her bet, and she knew it. It was a gamble on her part, the gambler's daughter.

Interesting. What had changed her mind? "Someday?"

"Maybe." She wanted to know if this questioning was going anywhere or if it was just conversation. "Who's asking?"

Alright, if this was a game of cat-and-mouse he was willing to play it. "A potentially interested party." Let's see what kind of a response she had to that.

Too much sitting today. He stood and walked over to the window in the back of the house. Moonlight fell across the garden in the rear and made dancing shadows on the last of the corn. She followed him across the room and looked out into the night. She was almost too close to him. "Uh, Rose."

She looked up at him and knew exactly what she was doing. This was not a boy, like the 'lovesick' uninvited suitor she'd had earlier. This was a man, with the strengths and weaknesses of a man, who was trying awfully hard to remain a gentleman. And Rose was doing everything in her power to make sure he didn't.

'_Oh no,_' he thought_, 'we're not doing this again._' He deliberately walked away from her and went back to the fire, but instead of sitting he leaned against the fireplace mantel. "My aunt had a fireplace like this," he said, trying to establish a new, less volatile subject. "Nice little ranch. Mean snake of a man."

"Did you grow up around her?" She'd walked back over to the fire and sat down. It appeared the gentleman had won, at least for now.

"No, she died before we even knew she existed." He stopped to re-light his cigar. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," she answered. So he sat and told her the story of the whole period in Montana, glossing over how badly he'd been injured and playing up Bret and Beau's heroics. It took longer to tell than he'd expected and it was quite late when he finished. The fire was nothing more than embers and there was a chill back in the room. She'd been quiet through the last part of his story and didn't say anything now when he finished. "And Jody?"

He had to laugh at that. "She's still in Silver Creek. Things seem to be getting serious with her and the new doctor. I expect someday I'll get a telegram summoning me to Montana to walk the bride down the aisle."

"Will you go?"

"Of course," he answered. "She's kin. Besides, that's the only bride I imagine I'll ever escort in a church."

"What if you have daughters? Won't you want to escort them?" Her tone was genuinely interested.

"Won't happen," he stated flatly. "Tried marriage once. It didn't work. Don't intend to try it again." He wanted absolutely no doubt in Rose's mind that he was not husband material.

She shook her head sadly. "That's a shame. I bet you'd be a good father."

"Like your own father?" he asked her. From the look on her face he knew that she hadn't thought of that one. She didn't know it but there was still doubt in Bart's mind. He wasn't anywhere near ready to settle down but still . . . . someday . . . . . maybe. Kids. He'd never really completely rejected it. But he wanted to crush any thoughts Rose might entertain. This was the wrong time and the wrong place, and he was here to visit his friend and help with a mess. Neither of which included time for a confused young woman to start thinking about . . . . . . things he wasn't willing to consider.

"I just . . . . . . I didn't mean . . . . . I meant . . . . . ."

He cut her off before she could finish the disjointed sentence. "It's late, Rose. Your father and I are going into Carson City tomorrow night to play poker. Do you want to come along and have dinner first? We can get you a room so you have someplace to stay. I'd feel better if you weren't here alone again."

She looked down and blushed. "Yes, that would be nice, thank you. I have a friend I can visit with, Belinda Jo. She's Wickham Ford's sister. I'm sure I can stay with her if it's too late to come home."

He guided her by the elbow up the stairs. He wanted to make sure that she stayed in front of him. Right now he trusted himself only slightly more than he trusted her. He left her at her bedroom door with a "good-night" and continued to his room. Funny how escorting a young woman to her room could bring back memories of another woman and their room. As he closed the bedroom door behind him he whispered softly "Goodnight, Caroline."


	8. Chapter 8 Flesh Wound

Fool's Gold

Chapter 8 – Flesh Wound

"Best looking escorts in town." That was Rose's pronouncement as she, her father and Bart entered the dining room of 'Le Femme Du Cherie' in the heart of Carson City. Anderson had insisted they dine there, promising Bart that he could get a steak anywhere and this was Rose's favorite restaurant.

Of course they hadn't expected to walk in and find Herb Stander, his wife Lisle and son Elliott there dining. Herb was about to open his second store at the far end of the city and he'd decided to take his family out to celebrate. Elliott wasn't really interested in going to a fancy dining room but now he was glad he had, since Rose was there. Introductions were made between the two groups and Elliott appeared to be on his best behavior, hoping against hope that the Garrett's would not bring up the debacle that was last night. He was even pleasant and polite to Bart, considering he had no reason to be. Rose was just happy that there were no further histrionics and when the two families parted company, breathed a little easier.

"I had no idea that the store was so successful," Anderson volunteered once they were seated. "Good for Herb. He's a hard working soul. And Lisle is a fine lady." At that point he shook his head. "If Elliott had only turned out half as good, he'd be a darn site better than he is now."

"Father, you promised to let it go," Rose reminded him. "Last night was just a mistake. I'm sure now that it's over it will be forgotten about."

'_Maybe by her father,_' Bart thought. _'Not by me. Somethin's under that boy's skin and it's tryin' to get out.' _He simply looked at the menu and tried to focus on other things. "Anderson, you promised me a steak, you better not be foolin' me."

Anderson laughed and signaled the waiter. "A bottle of my port, Maurice." He turned to Bart and smiled. "I'd tell them to bring you the cow but if I remember correctly you're the Maverick that likes his meat burned."

Bart shook his head no. "Well done, Anderson, not burned. I've herded enough of those things through the country to never want to consume one that might be looking at me. You eat it your way and I'll eat it mine."

"Stubborn Texan," was Garrett's only remark.

"Yes, thank you. I am. And proud of it."

Dinner was excellent and the company charming. Anderson ordered for he and Rose and Bart got his steak, cooked until it was done, thank you. They all had a glass of port with dinner and Anderson had two more after dinner. Rose had seen her father drink men under the table for years and was pleasantly surprised that Bart drank a minuscule amount in comparison. The dinner wine was as far as he would go tonight; if you played poker tipsy it was gambling, and gambling was something the Maverick's didn't do. Halfway through the meal the Stander's finished their dinner and left; all but Elliott, that is. He came over to their table when Rose was done with her food and asked if he could speak to her. She nodded yes and he pulled out her chair and escorted her out of the dining room.

"Now what do you suppose that's all about?" asked her father of no one in particular.

"Last night, I'd hazard a wild guess," came Bart's reply.

"What happened that I didn't get there in time to see?"

A shake of the head from Bart. "Not much. You know how kids are."

"She's not a kid, Bart, in case you hadn't noticed. And neither is he. You saw what kind of an answer she gave me when I asked. Did he hurt her?"

"No, Anderson," Bart didn't add the rest of it_, 'because I stopped him before he could.' _

They sat at the table for a few minutes and finished their dinners. Rose still hadn't returned and her father was getting edgy. "I'm going to see what's taking so long." He was right, she'd been gone too long for there to be anything good happening. Anderson started to get up from the table and Bart put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

"Let me go," Maverick volunteered. "I might aggravate them less."

"Alright, son, but remind Rose that we're leaving shortly. We need to take her to the Ford house first."

Bart got up and walked to the lobby of the restaurant. No Rose and no Elliott. He looked around and moved towards the front door. They were outside on the landing arguing and Bart could only hear part of it.

"But I love you," that much was loud and clear, from Elliott.

". . . . . . you can't or you wouldn't act this . . . . . " came from Rose.

"Don't go to Wickham's house. Come with me and we'll . . . . ."

'_Alright, time to break this up,' _Bart took two steps towards the door and stopped. A third, unknown voice had joined the conversation.

"The buggy is all set, Elliott. You can be at the justice of the peace's house in Virginia City in two hours. Then her father can't bother you anymore." The voice was obviously one of Elliott and Rose's friends.

Rose's voice, then. "I'm not going, Elliott. I'm not running out on my father like this."

Elliott pleading, almost whining, "But Rose, we planned this."

"No. I've changed my mind. I won't run away like I've done something wrong."

Stander's voice again, angry now. "It's him, isn't it? It's that Maverick fella. He's got your head all turned around and you don't remember what we wanted. He's come along and just blinded you to our love. Remember how you feel, Rose. Remember we were going to be married. What's he got that I haven't?"

She very quietly answered him. "This has nothing to do with Bart Maverick. Stop being foolish. I just won't run away like a child. We are adults and I want to be treated like one. I'm going back inside. I don't care what you do."

Bart saw Rose turn away from Elliott and take a step towards the door. Better if Rose didn't know she'd been overheard. He backed away from the front door and hurried back to their table. He put a finger to his lips and sat down. Anderson saw the gesture and played along.

" . . . . . so that's why I told him no."

Both men saw Rose approaching the table and stood. Bart pulled her chair out and held it for her.

"I think we're about done here, Rose. Are you still going to spend the evening with Belinda Jo?"

"Yes, Poppa, I am." Rose had resumed using the term of endearment for her father. "Can you walk me there?"

"I need to take care of something, my dear. Can you take her, Bart?"

Not what he would have planned, but it would give him a chance to question her. "Certainly. I'll meet you back here?"

"Yes, that'll work. Mitzi's is back up the street from here. The Ford house is the other way. You take Rose down there and meet me back here and we'll go on to Mitzi's. Good-night, honey, have a good time with your friend. We'll pick you up in the morning." Garrett kissed his daughter on the cheek and gave her a hug. Bart gave Rose his arm and they headed for the door. When they got outside Elliott and his friend were gone.

They turned left, down the street. The two walked, arm in arm, for a while before anything was said. The sky was so beautiful and the night so peaceful that neither wished to disturb it. Then a horse whinnied and someone rode down the street and the peace was broken. 'You heard us arguing." It wasn't a question, but a statement. So Rose had seen him after all.

"Yes."

"And you didn't say anything."

"It wasn't my argument."

She laughed, that happy sound he'd heard in the rain. "You are a gentleman, aren't you?" she asked.

"Please don't spread that around. There might be a lady or two I'd rather didn't know." He smiled at the remark. Yeah, if he ever got back on that horse.

They walked another minute and turned down a narrow street. Three houses down on the left they stopped.

"Are there any ladies, Bart? In your life, I mean." Rose looked at him expectantly.

"No time," he answered, brushing off the question. "Too busy right now."

"This is the Ford house," she said. Silence for a moment. "Are you? Too busy for this?"

Without another word she reached up and kissed him. It was tender, and sweet, and hard to resist, so he didn't. He put his arms around her and kissed her back, really kissed her, the way he knew he shouldn't. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled closer to him. This time he didn't fight her, he drew her as near to him as he could and held her there, while his hand moved up her back and tangled itself in her hair. Her mouth was sweet and soft and her body warm and pliant and they stood, arms around each other, and kissed for long minutes. Finally he could stand it no longer and pulled away from her, moving back from her embrace quickly, lest he give in to her and never stop. His heart pounding, as was hers, they were moments away from crossing a line they shouldn't cross. Then he looked at the front door and saw movement, a face watching them from inside, and he moved away from her completely. They couldn't keep doing this.

She watched him walk back down the street, moving as fast as his body would let him, and turn up the block. Then she went inside the house where her friend Belinda Jo Ford was waiting for her.

She didn't see the tall figure concealing itself in the shadows directly across the street. Nor did she hear the clicking of the knife blade as it scraped back and forth against the fence. It had to be nice and sharp, so that when it pierced flesh it would sink in easily.


	9. Chapter 9 Hot and Cold Rose

Fool's Gold

Chapter 9 – Hot and Cold Rose

Anderson could tell that something wasn't right when his friend returned from delivering Rose to the Ford home. Bart could be extremely close-mouthed when he wanted to be and now was one of those times. Rather than pry into an area where he wasn't welcome, the older gambler decided to let things pass for now. If something was bothering Maverick bad enough he knew there was someone he could talk to.

They walked up to Mitzi's and the contrast between there and 'Around the Bend' was startling. Large, loud and loquacious, Mitzi's was everything that The Bend wasn't. Every poker table was full of drifters, ranch hands, gunfighters, low level politicians, local small business men and part time law enforcement. Even one of the federal marshals was there playing. Dance hall girls in skimpy exotic costumes were everywhere and there were three full time bartenders. The roulette wheel and faro were down at one end of the saloon, out of the way of the serious gamblers.

Everything was freewheeling and fast moving. They each found a poker game and joined in. Bart's head was not where it should have been and he started out by doing some serious losing. Which is when he had a long talk with himself and decided that 'love' was one thing and poker was another. He drank coffee, even though it couldn't compare to the black carada at The Bend, and smoked cigars while he concentrated. Soon the ship had been righted and he was back to being Bart Maverick, professional gambler. And the cards started to fall his way, just as they had last night. Poker players came and went at the table and he kept winning. Finally he looked up to see Herb Stander sitting at the table next to his, playing against Anderson. That didn't appear to be going well for Stander.

Bart played on, paying attention to his friend's table on occasion, noticing Anderson's chips increasing and Stander's decreasing proportionately. Eventually the store owner quit the game, cashed in his remaining funds and vacated his seat. Anderson looked over and made an unpleasant face before turning back to his game. That could mean only one thing – Garrett had stripped Herb of his funds. Bart had seen that expression on the card sharp's face on more than one occasion in New Orleans.

Finally Anderson rose to stretch and light a fresh cigar. Then he walked outside into the almost dawn and Bart decided it was a good time to quit for the night, too. Or rather the morning. He noted the stack of fifty's and hundred's that were passed his way as he cashed out and knew he'd actually won more tonight than the last time he'd played at The Bend. Fresh money keeps the table hot even when you're not playing for thousands of dollars a hand. In a considerably better frame of mind than he'd been in a few short hours ago, he joined Anderson in front of Mitzi's and lit his own cigar.

"You look like a barn cat that just ate a dozen hens," the younger man told the older. "You must have done well."

Anderson nodded and agreed. "I did, son, I did. You look rather satisfied yourself. What did I tell you about easy pickin's?"

"Your friend Stander didn't look too pleased, did he?" Bart was curious to see what Anderson's reaction was to Herb Stander's losses.

"No, Herb wasn't. I've told him time and again he needs to be a better poker player before he gambles with that kind of money, but he never seems to learn. And most of it ends up in my pocket. Where would we be without friends to keep us flush?"

Bart chuckled and drew on the cigar. "How's this town for breakfast?"

"What? You and food? I thought your breakfast of choice was coffee?"

The remark didn't go unnoticed. "It is. Except when it's not. And this morning it's not. Let's get some."

"Alright, Mr. Maverick, let's see what we can rustle up. I think I know a place or two. How hungry are you?"

"Bret Maverick hungry," Bart answered.

"In that case, I know just the spot. Come on with me." Anderson headed up the street, towards the Carson City Golden Bird Hotel.

An hour later the sun was up and their bellies were full. They headed down towards Mitzi's and the livery where the boggy was and talked about trivial things along the way. They were almost at the livery stable when Anderson finally brought up his friend's demeanor the night before. "Noticed you were on edge when you came back from the Ford house. Anything you want to talk about?"

Would he? Could he? How do you discuss a woman that was attempting to drive you crazy with her father? Bart thought better of it and shook his head. "Nope. Nothing I can't fix."

Garrett wasn't inclined to let it go so easily this time, however. "Was it Rose again? Is she driving you crazy yet?"

'_Yes, but not in the way you're imagining,'_ Bart thought to himself. Out loud he still said "No. She's not bothering me."

Anderson looked a little disappointed. He was hoping . . . . . .

"She can be vexing, that's for sure."

Bart looked at Garrett and wondered how to explain this . . . . without explaining it. He could imagine his friend tearing him to pieces for getting too 'friendly' with his little girl. Who was quite a woman, whether her father realized it or not. "I can handle it, Anderson. I'm just worried about her and Stander."

Anderson slapped Bart on the back. "That makes two of us, my friend. I'll hitch the horses, you go get Rose."

It was Bart's turn to disagree. "I'll take care of the buggy. You go get your daughter."

Something in Bart's tone of voice warned Anderson to let it go. "Alright, we'll be back in a few minutes." He turned from the livery and walked on down Main Street, headed for the Ford house. Bart was glad for the quiet; he needed time to think. About Elliott's wild plea's to get Rose to marry him. About Herb Stander's gambling. About the watch fob lost in the hills on the Garrett property. About hot and cold Rose. Did she want to marry Elliott? Was she trying to use Bart to make him jealous? Or had she really had enough of the store clerk boyfriend and wanted him instead?

He was done harnessing and hitching the horses to the buggy by the time Anderson and Rose returned. Bart looked at her in the daylight and thought, _'God, she really is beautiful. So different from Caroline._' It was the last thought he'd have about his deceased wife for a while.

XXXXXXXX

Elliott Stander was not a happy man. Everything had been going along fine until Bart Maverick arrived, and nothing had been right since. He'd been up all night pondering the decision he had to make, ever since witnessing the display put on by the two of them the night before. Rose had stopped seeing things clearly and there was only one way to restore the balance to their lives – by eliminating Bart Maverick. If he couldn't run Maverick out of town then he'd do the next best thing – kill him.


	10. Chapter 10 Bet on the Bay

Fool's Gold

Chapter 10 – Bet on the Bay

The next few days were as peaceful as could be expected. Bart avoided spending time alone with Rose as often as possible without making it obvious. He and Anderson spent a night in Virginia City sampling the luxuries of the town, including a hotel suite that put all rooms that had gone before it to shame. The food was glorious and the cigars were the best; even the poker playing continued its winning ways for both of them.

They returned to Carson City for Anderson's meeting with the town council. Bart had some investigating to do while Anderson argued his case against the railroad's proponents. His first stop was Herb Standers store. He reintroduced himself to Standers and then asked to speak with him about a private manner. Once they were alone in the back office Bart retrieved the watch fob from his pocket and asked about it.

Standers identified it as Elliott's property and was thankful that it had been found. Bart did a little more digging and uncovered that Elliott claimed to have lost it the last time he was at Mortimer Jones' house. Odd that Mr. Maverick found it where? Excuses were made for it turning up the night that Rose spent at the Ford home. Bart left the store satisfied that there was something going on with Elliott and his gang of friends besides the relentless pursuit of Rose Garrett.

He then went to the Carson City Savings and Loan Bank on the pretense of opening an account there. After seriously flirting with the bank manager's secretary he was able to find out that 'Standers Emporium and General Store' had been mortgaged to the hilt in order to provide financing for the new store at the far end of the City. And that Herb Stander was in arrears on his loan payments. When he came out of the bank he saw another of Elliott's friends, this one had been identified to him as Mortimer Jones, doing a bad job of following him around. Obviously Elliott wanted to know where he was and what he was doing. It wasn't hard to disappear through one of the more disreputable saloons and slip away from Mr. Jones. He went by the council hall and discovered the meeting still in progress.

That's when he decided to ride out to the Bennett property and take a look for himself. He and his host had ridden in to Carson City, so he had a horse available. This time he was riding the bay that Rose was fond of and the horse seemed a little skittish compared to the black he'd ridden several times. He had a map of sorts to follow and a fairly good description of the property and its exact location, and after a while the bay settled down and behaved. The land was just the way Anderson described it, running almost parallel with the curvature of the Tahoe River. But why would they have to re-direct the river? That made no sense. The railroad should be able to run along the same line as the water without disturbing anything.

Somebody wanted Anderson Garrett's northern property. The question remained: why? What was he not seeing? That would require another good look at the land, something he wanted to do by himself and not with either of the Garrett's. He turned the bay around and started to head back to town. His sense told him there was someone out there, watching him, but there was no place close to hide and he couldn't see anyone. Then he heard the sound. The unmistakable rattle startled both him and the horse, and the bay reared and squealed, fighting the reins and Bart's attempt to turn her away from the snake. He drew his gun but because of the horses panic he couldn't get off a clean shot. She continued to buck and kick until she managed to dislodge her rider and leave him lying in a heap on the ground. With no one to stop her she took off across the landscape and back to town.

Bart wasn't badly hurt; mostly bruised and stunned. But the rattle continued and he reached for his .45. It was gone.

Now it was only a matter of time until the snake struck. He managed to roll over cautiously on the ground and work the Remington out of its shoulder holster, knowing that his shot had better be perfect. With only two bullets he couldn't afford to miss.

He took aim slowly, carefully, and fired. The snake's head split in four different directions and what was left of it hit the ground. He finally breathed in relief. He rested his head on his arm for a minute and laid there on the ground, too numb with shock to move. Then the realization hit him.

No horse. No water. No one who knew where he was. And a bruised and battered body, one still recovering from a traumatic series of events. He slowly got to his feet and looked for his gun. He saw the black diamond grip and picked it up, holstering it. Then his hat, lying three feet away. As he bent to retrieve it he got unexpectedly dizzy and had to catch himself to keep from falling. He squatted on the ground for a few minutes until his head cleared and then he stood up and headed towards town. It was going to be a long walk.

XXXXXXXX

The meeting lasted well past the time it was supposed to be over. Anderson convinced the men on the council that the southern route through his property was not at all suitable and should be eliminated. He also got them to have an independent survey conducted on the Bennett land to see if it could work without re-directing the Tahoe River. He actually felt good about the progress they'd made and hoped that Bart found something to keep himself occupied.

He went to Mitzi's where they'd agreed to meet but there was no sign of Bart. He hadn't been there according to the bartenders. Wondering if Maverick could have decided to return to the ranch alone, Garrett went to the livery and was disturbed by what he found. The bay mare was dressed in full tack and had obviously been ridden, but she was wet as if she'd run a long distance. He questioned the stable hand and found that Bart had indeed taken her out, several hours ago. The mare returned by herself. Anderson saddled the buckskin and set off in the direction of the Bennett property with the mare in tow. He'd gotten about a mile out of town when he observed a figure in the distance, slowly walking, and recognized the form as Bart, who was limping badly. Anderson spurred the horses on and got to his weary friend in just moments.

"Bart! What happened? Are you alright? Let me get you some water!" Anderson grabbed his canteen and passed it down, then dismounted and reached out to steady the younger man, who was swaying slightly. He felt Bart sag against him as he drank from the canteen. He was dusty and dirty and looked like he'd walked all the way from the Bennett property. He couldn't get enough of the water and Anderson helped him stand until he was done drinking.

"Sorry . . . . . rattlesnake . . . . horse got spooked . . . . walked. Exhausted."

"Are you alright? Did the snake bite you?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Dizzy. Shot the rattler, finally. Can we go home?"

Anderson nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. You take the buckskin, he's steadier. Let's get you home and rested. Can you mount or do you need help?" He was more than concerned; Bart looked like hell.

To answer the question, Bart pulled himself up on the buckskin. After the fight with the bay he wasn't about to argue. All he wanted was food and bed, maybe not in that order. The dizziness had passed and he hoped it was simply from hitting the ground, hard.

Except for the snake incident it had been a productive day. He knew that there was some reason Elliott Stander had been on Garrett land; someone on the town council wanted that particular piece of property; and Herb Stander not only had a gambling problem but was over-extended. And finally, there was no good reason to not buy the land that the Bennett's owned rather than cut Anderson's north acreage into pieces. Or was there?


	11. Chapter 11 Pyrite

Fool's Gold

Chapter 11 – Pyrite

"Let's not have a repeat of yesterday. From now on you ride Zeus." This was Anderson's edict the next morning while they drank coffee. Zeus was the black stallion in the Garrett barn.

"No arguments." Bart was feeling better than yesterday; he was stiff and sore where he'd landed but that would fade in a day or two. While bruised and battered from his encounter with the ground he'd survived and was trying to determine his next move.

They discussed the council's decision and Bart relayed his opinion of the Bennett property lines and the flow of the river. Both men agreed there was more at play here than just railroad rights. The important question was still - what?

Anderson was surprised to hear of Herb Stander's mortgage problems. "Didn't think he'd risk that much just to play poker."

"I think he's in too deep now and doesn't see any other way out. Does he own any land?"

"None to speak of. Got everything of value sunk into that store and the new one. Don't know what he'd do if he lost it."

Bart was thinking. After a minute he asked Anderson, "Just how wealthy is your daughter?"

Garrett looked at him and understood what he was asking and why. His mind had been running along the same path. "Wealthy. She could buy and sell both of us without batting an eye."

There was laughter from the younger man. "That wouldn't take much in my case. How long has Elliott been courtin' her?"

"Long enough. Think that's what he's after?" There was a tinge of anger in Anderson's voice, that someone might want to use Rose like that, simply for her money.

"Possibly. Although there does seem to be some real feeling there."

Anderson snorted his disdain. "Not enough. What does she see in him?"

Bart shook his head in wonderment. "I don't know, Anderson. He must have some good qualities for her to let him hang around." Bart thought about Rose's kisses and asked himself the same question. _'What does she see in him?'_

Just then the subject of their discussion came downstairs. "My, aren't you boys up early?"

"Too stiff to lie in bed any longer," came the quick rejoinder from Bart. He rose from his chair and started to stretch, then decided that a bad idea. "Zeus and I are going out to explore. There's something I want to see."

"I'll come along," Rose hastily volunteered.

"No, that's alright. I don't know how long I'll be." His answer was too quick and she caught the look in his eyes and didn't argue.

"Are you sure you want to take a chance this soon?"

Bart had something on his mind and Anderson picked up on it. "Give the man some space, Rose. He's on a good solid animal, not that skittish excuse for a horse you're so fond of."

Her feelings were hurt by her father's reprimand but she said nothing.

Bart reached in the shoulder holster to make certain that the derringer was there; thank God he'd had it yesterday. "Going to saddle the horse. Be back later. Any plans I should know about?"

"Are you up for more saloon crawling? There's one more place I'd like to take you." Anderson's look was hopeful.

"Sure. Why not? Rose, what about you? Got someone to stay here with you?" Bart still wasn't pleased with the idea of Rose by herself at the ranch. At least not until he determined Elliott's actual agenda.

"My turn to play hostess. Belinda Jo is coming out this afternoon."

All the more reason to be gone this evening. He turned to Anderson and tapped the brim of his hat. "I'll be back in one piece this time, I swear."

Anderson laughed and returned the good-bye. "As long as you saddle the right horse."

"Really funny man. Remind me why I know you?"

XXXXXXXX

He didn't have any trouble locating the obscured cave entrance. The stallion practically went there by himself, comfortable with the man riding him.

Bart searched around outside for a while, determined to find any kind of clue he might have missed on the previous visit. Other than a plethora of horse tracks there wasn't much to be seen. Finally he dismounted and found a tree to tie the reins to.

The entrance was small and cramped, but the cave itself enlarged quite rapidly. He struck a match and followed the walls back into itself for a few feet before coming across something interesting. A narrow ribbon of pyrite, or fool's gold, ran all along the base of the walls. If this was what Elliott Stander was looking for then he was wasting his time. It wasn't worth the money it would cost to extract it. He lit another match and continued, down into the cave as it descended below ground. About two hundred feet on he finally saw the real treasure, in what could only be called a vein of silver almost as wide as it was long. This was something worth fighting over.

There was an unexpected sound behind him and he quickly put out the match and stood still. He heard nothing further and assumed the wind or a small animal. He walked carefully back toward the mouth of the cave, unwilling to light another match. When he got back outside and found nothing there he was relieved. Now he had a working theory and he wanted more information before he put it to the test.

He untied the horse and painfully mounted, the soreness from yesterday's encounter foremost in his mind. He had no idea that he was indeed being watched by Tommy Statford, a young man much more adept at remaining undetected than Mortimer Jones. _'Elliott's right,'_ Statford thought to himself. _'This Maverick is going to mess up the plan.' _

Tommy watched him ride away, back toward the Garrett ranch. The gang was going to have to do something about this.

XXXXXXXX

"Alright, Rose, just who is the man I watched you kiss?" Belinda Jo Ford was none too subtle with her question, but after what she'd witnessed in front of her home the other night she felt no need to be. Right out in the street, never mind that it was well after dark, when Rose was all but engaged to her brother's friend Elliott.

Rose looked her straight in the eyes and answered, as nonchalant as she could, "Just a friend of my fathers."

"And none of your father's friends has ever looked like that," was the rebuttal. "Who is he? Where did he come from? How long is he staying?"

Rose laughed as only a good friend could. "Belinda, you ask too many questions."

"And I've gotten no answers thus far."

"Sit down here on the porch with me and have some lemonade. I'll answer all your questions in due time."

Belinda Jo sat as directed with Rose and drank lemonade. Which is why the two young women were there waiting when Bart rode back to the ranch. He cut a fine figure on the black stallion; horse and rider were well matched. He dismounted at the corral gate and wrapped Zeus' reins around the gate post. Then he strode across the yard and climbed the porch steps and tipped his hat to Rose and the newcomer.

"Belinda Jo Ford, this is my father's friend Bart Maverick. Bart, this is Belinda Jo. You walked me to her house last week."

"Miss Ford, pleased to make your acquaintance. Miss Rose, good afternoon. Are all your friends this lovely?" He took Belinda Jo's hand and kissed it. Then he remembered what he and Rose were doing outside of the Ford house and blushed. Actually blushed. Belinda had never been so charmed in her entire life.

Now that Belinda'd met him and gotten a good look at him in the daylight, she certainly understood why Rose was kissing him. Tall and dark, with dancing brown eyes, there was without doubt no one in Carson City like him. He was well-mannered and graceful, and there was a hint of danger about him. Yet his smile could disarm the most duplicitous person on the planet. She immediately fell under his spell.

He stayed and made small talk with them for several minutes before excusing himself. As soon as he'd gone inside Belinda turned to her friend and offered, "I'd do everything I knew how to make him my friend, too."

Rose endured the teasing from Belinda as she remembered the reason for it. She'd never been kissed like that before, and she certainly hoped it wouldn't be the last time. There was no comparison between Bart's kisses and Elliott's – one was a man with the sweet kiss of desire and the other a boy, interested only in his own pleasure.

An hour later Anderson and Bart left for Carson City, intending to make another night of it. The women were still sitting on the porch talking; it was a lovely evening and neither was in any hurry to go indoors. Ethan brought the horses around; again the black for Bart and the buckskin for Anderson. They looked quite gallänt formal and mounted, in morning coats and fancy shirts, and Rose wished that she was going with them. There was something quite distinctive about Bart Maverick that attracted the ladies, and Rose was no different in that regard. She'd come to like and respect him; his presence and elegant manner made her realize that Elliott Stander was not the man she was meant to spend her life with. She hoped that she could make Elliott understand that. The gamblers rode off into the night and assumed the ladies to be safe.


	12. Chapter 12 Go Away, Little Boy

Fool's Gold

Chapter 12 – Go Away, Little Boy

After the nights spent in two very different saloons, the 'Horseshoe Bend Casino' was not at all what Bart expected. It was small and intimate in comparison to the previous ones and much quieter. There was still plenty of drinking and gambling, but the games were calmer and the drinking less rowdy. Poker was serious business here and was treated as such. There was only one table with open chairs at first and if they both wanted to play Anderson and Bart would have to play against each other. They accepted the challenge.

The games went back and forth initially, with Anderson ahead, then Bart. Then something in the cards changed and Garrett couldn't draw a decent hand to save his soul. Skilled as the older gambler was he was second best in this town on this night; Bart was on fire. As soon as a place became available at another table Anderson saw his opening and moved; if he had any chance of getting his money back he needed to play against men that did not include Bart Maverick.

Much to their surprise Elliott Stander drifted in about eleven o'clock. He was certainly old enough to play poker but young enough to surprise men with his level of expertise. He was a much more skilled player than his father as Bart soon discovered. Bart still outplayed him but Elliott made it a little tougher; and he also seemed to be holding a grudge. Maybe from the night Bart stopped him from bothering Rose?

They played on for a while before Bart wanted a break. He'd had enough of Elliott's snide remarks and backhanded attempts at intimidation. He wasn't about to run from a 'kid' but the enjoyment had gone out of the game. He excused himself from the next hand and went to the bar for coffee. Elliott Stander made the mistake of following him.

"What's the matter Maverick, can't take the heat?" Elliott taunted.

"Go away, Elliott," Bart answered. He turned his back at the bar and picked up his coffee. Stander wasn't going to let it go.

"Afraid to keep playing me?"

What was his problem? Once again, "Go away, Elliott."

"Think you can just take whatever you want?" Elliott was getting louder and more belligerent.

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Go away." Enough of this game of cat and mouse. He was tired of playing. Why couldn't the boy just back off?

"Rose is my girl and you can't have her." That was loud enough to stop the poker game at the next table.

Bart was fed up. He turned back around to Elliott and got right up into his face and said very quietly, "Listen to me, little boy. I told you to go away. If you've half a brain you'll do it now."

"Nobody calls me little boy and gets away with it!" With that he took a wild swing at Bart, who ducked and threw a punch that didn't miss. Stander dropped like a stone and lay on the floor. A deputy stepped away from the bar and dragged Elliott out of the way.

"If he's still out when I leave I'll drag his butt over to sleep it off. Sorry, Mr. Maverick. The kid can't hold his liquor. This ain't the first time he's pulled somethin' like this." The deputy looked at the prone 'boy' on the floor. "Someday he's gonna get himself in real trouble. Appreciate you takin' it easy on him."

Bart shook his head and then his hand. It hurt! All because of a foolish boy. The deputy assumed Elliott to be drunk but Bart knew he wasn't. He was mad about Rose Garrett and it was time Bart put an end to it. He would do his best to make sure that he and Rose weren't alone together any more, no matter what it took to make that happen. Including cutting his visit with Anderson short, if he had to. Or explaining it to his friend, her father, and taking his perceived punishment for a violation of trust.

He was in no mood to go back to poker now and he did something he rarely ever did – ordered a whiskey at the bar. Rotgut they called it and rotgut it was, but it settled his nerves and anxiety and, in a moment of frustration, he ordered another when the first was gone. He didn't see Anderson watching him with disbelief, and then relief when he walked away without touching the second drink. Bart didn't drink. None of the Mavericks did, and that was a well-known fact. So for Bart to actually take a drink and order a second one only proved how unhappy he was at the turn of events. Anderson was truly concerned about Bart's mental torment. They needed to talk and fast.

XXXXXXXX

"I'm not drunk, I'm tellin' ya," Elliott protested loudly as the deputy pushed him forward. He was trying desperately to avoid spending a night in jail for no good reason, as he saw it. Was this another of Maverick's attempts to keep him out of Rose Garrett's life? If it was, it wasn't going to work.

"Then why throw the punch? The man was just standin' there." Never try to reason with a drunk or a fool blinded by jealousy and greed.

"He insulted me. That's a good enough reason." Halfway across the street to the jail the deputy and Elliott stopped walking. The kid had a point. He stood there straight and solid, not swaying like a drunken man would. His speech wasn't slurred and his eyes were bright rather than glazed over. Maybe the kid had just been angry.

"Are you done now? All over? Not going to do something you'll regret in the morning?"

Elliott saw his opening and took it. "Yes sir. All I want to do is go home. No more trouble, I swear."

The deputy fell for it, as had so many others in town. The wide-eyed innocent sincerity. Right before the snake bites. "Alright, go on home. Get out of here."

Stander took his leave as quickly as he could. He made his way to the Statford residence, where he found Tommy still awake and trying to determine a way out of the mess their plan had become.

"Only thing I can figure is to get rid of the gambler. Rose is distracted by him but if he's not around she'll come back to me."

"How are we gonna get him out of town?" Tommy was thinking 'remove', not 'remove.'

Elliott fingered the knife in his coat. Would he go that far to restore order in his life and his 'gang'? "In a pine box."

"Are you sure? What if it doesn't work?"

"How could it not work? Dead is dead."

"No, I mean what if Rose . . . . ?"

"She'll come back to me." He was trying hard to convince himself. "She will. She loves me."

Tommy had heard Elliott like this before. Once he made up his mind to something there was no dissuading him. He sighed and gave in to his friend's plan. "Who else?"

"Jackson. Billy Joe. Jonesy." The 'gang' members Elliott wanted included.

"No Wickham?" Wickham Ford was the only member excluded.

''No. Rose and his sister are too close. I don't want Wick involved."

"Alright, when?"

"Now, tonight. He's here, in town. Let's get this over with."

Tommy would have preferred to wait but Elliott was anxious to do this. Statford left Elliott at his house and went to round up the others. Best to do the deed before he lost his nerve. 


	13. Chapter 13 Bad Moon Rising

Fool's Gold

Chapter 13 – Bad Moon Rising

A walk always did him good. Got some exercise, physical and mental. Gave the head a chance to clear. Helped you decide what was important and what wasn't. And that boy definitely wasn't.

He'd come here to visit his friend, who needed help with a situation. That was the important thing, not Elliott Stander and his foolish boy's pride. His focus needed to be on the problem at hand, and an annoyance like Elliott didn't qualify. He walked past the livery where the horses were and thought about going back to the ranch. He'd had enough for one night and should leave while he was ahead. He'd go back to the saloon and tell Anderson. If his friend was committed to staying he'd ride back alone.

He was just past the stable, turning up the next street when they jumped him. They came out of the dark, five of them from different directions, and he didn't stand a chance. He tried to reach for his gun but he felt it pulled out of its holster and discarded somewhere. He hit one and saw him fall but two more took his place. They were boys, and he knew exactly who they were. Elliott Stander's friends. The biggest one grabbed his arms and pulled them back; he'd been in this position before in Montana and he wasn't going down without a fight. Then there were two holding him back, preventing him from throwing another punch. And then in the dark and moonlight he saw Elliott.

Something changed. It was no longer just a pummeling, but a viscous attack. Struck from all sides, beaten but not down, Elliott stepped forward and started his own assault. He might be a boy emotionally but his fists belonged to a man. He took all his rage and frustration out on Bart, until every inch of his stomach hurt more with each blow. And then a sharp pain, unlike the rest, and Bart knew what Elliott had been reaching for the night he attacked Rose. Once, twice, three times he felt the stabbing in his gut and sensed the hot liquid begin to stain his clothes. His blood. The young men behind him turned loose of his arms and let him fall to the ground, where Elliott landed a boot to the chest for good measure. Then, like the cowards they were, they turned and fled.

'_Don't . . . . lose . . . . .consciousness.' _He kept repeating the same words over and over in his head. He knew that if he passed out he'd bleed to death before he could be found. He was close to the livery; if he could just get to the horses . . . . . somehow he managed to pull himself to his feet. His hands were sticky from his own blood and he clutched his side and stomach where he'd felt the blade go in. He staggered back to the horses and almost fell against the black stallion, grabbing for the saddle horn. His hand slipped off once, twice, and then he got a grip and held on. Groaning with agony he pulled himself up and across the saddle, barely managing to right himself in the seat. The horse sensed something desperately wrong and started towards the ranch. Bart wrapped the reins around the saddle horn and held on for dear life.

XXXXXXXX

It was the middle of the night and she was awake. There was something on her mind and she knew she wasn't going to sleep any longer until she'd worked it out.

What started out as a flirtation, an intrigue begun with a stranger, had turned into something more. Her relationship with Elliott Stander wasn't perfect; she knew that, but he was charming and persuasive and it drove her father crazy. She'd promised to marry him out of sheer defiance, but she had come to care about him and thought she could make it work.

Until she met Bart Maverick. Handsome, funny, wicked, mysterious, he kept her on her toes. She was dazzled by him, swept away by an emotion she knew nothing about. It was new and thrilling, until that part of it got out of hand. That part named Elliott. She had conflicting feelings. She owed Elliott loyalty and trust and honor, and above all faithfulness. She owed none of those things to Bart, and it was a revelation to her.

She wanted him. She wanted him so badly that she ached with the longing. When he touched her he set her on fire and she had no idea what to do with the feelings. Elliott was fun and pleasant and comfortable, like a pair of old worn out shoes. Bart was none of those things. He was exciting and dangerous and it scared the life out of her.

It was over with Elliott and she knew it. He must know it too, from the way he'd acted when they were together the last few times. The 'engagement' had to be broken, and the sooner the better. She had no idea if she could hold on to Bart Maverick or not, but even if she couldn't she knew she no longer wanted to hold onto Elliott Stander.

There, she'd thought it through. She knew she could make a decision if she confronted the problem directly, rather than looking at it sideways as she had been. She was at peace with her emotions and wanted to find out where they would take her. She was just about to go back upstairs to her bedroom when she heard the horse. Awfully early for the men to be back. And there was something wrong. The horse was walking slowly and leisurely, in no particular hurry to get home. The horse. Why was there only one? Who was missing? Then the hoof beats stopped, and she opened the door just in time to see a figure slide from the saddle and hit the ground with a terrible 'thud.' She was stunned and stood there for a moment before she recognized Zeus. There was something all over the saddle. And all over the man lying on the ground. It was red and brown. It was blood.

She let out a scream and ran towards the figure. It was Bart, it had to be. Within seconds Ethan came running from the bunk house pulling on his shirt and Belinda Jo came flying down the stairs. She got to Bart just as both got to her. He was pale and cold and covered in blood. She looked at Ethan first. "Help me get him inside."

Ethan took Bart's head and shoulders, Rose his feet and they carried him in to the house. He was unconscious. Belinda followed them in and Rose addressed her friend next. "Take Zeus. Go get the doctor. Hurry." She heard the horse gallop away and knew that her friend had done as she asked. "Upstairs, Ethan. Third room down." She and Ethan struggled with the tall man up the stairs but finally got him to the third bedroom. They laid him on the bed and the ranch foreman helped her remove his coat and vest, soaked in his blood. She'd never seen so much. She felt faint for a minute but fought off the feeling. No time to pass out now. "Go get me some water and towels. In the kitchen." Ethan hurried back downstairs.

She had to open his shirt, already cut to ribbons by the repeated stabbings. There were three long wounds, wide and deep. One of them was still bleeding. Ethan returned with towels and a basin of water and she did her best to clean the dried blood from his stomach and chest. He was almost as white as the sheets they'd laid him on and his breathing was rapid and shallow. There was so much blood she had to change towels twice, and the water turned red in the basin. At last she was able to wipe his face and neck and he moaned softly.

"Bart, can you hear me? It's Rose. You're at the ranch. You're safe. Who did this to you? Can you hear me? Who did this?"

He whispered something, scarcely audible, and she had to lean down and ask him again, "Who, Bart? Who?"

Then he answered her, barely a whisper, and she was horrified. "Elliott."


	14. Chapter 14 Lies for Elliott

Fool's Gold

Chapter 14 – Lies for Elliott

Anderson continued to play poker and wonder why Bart hadn't returned. Staying away from the game he loved for so long was unlike the man he knew and he began to worry. Soon enough Doc Turner's young intern came running in and headed straight for Anderson.

"Mr. Garrett, Doc says come quick. There's been a stabbing out at your ranch and he's headed there now."

"A stabbing? My daughter? Who?" The gambler's voice was steady but concerned.

"No sir, Rose is fine. She sent Belinda Jo Ford into town to get Doc. It's your guest, Mr. Maverick."

"What? Bart? But he was here with me!"

"That's all I know, Mr. Garrett. Doc just sent me to fetch you."

Anderson hurriedly threw down his cards and folded. He knew everyone at the table and they understood his need to leave. He hastily followed the young doctor outside, where the buckskin had already been brought around for his owner. He mounted the horse and rode back to the ranch as fast as he could.

The black stallion had been cleaned and curried by Ethan but his saddle lay on the ground in the dirt where it was discarded. It was soaked in blood. Anderson stopped just long enough to get a brief report from Ethan of the early morning occurrences and left the buckskin with him. Doc's horse and buggy were tied out front and Anderson took the porch steps two at a time. When he entered the house no one was there but Belinda Jo, and she looked scared to death.

Anderson took his daughter's friends hands in his and sat her down. Then he went across the room and poured her a shot of whiskey; he handed it to her and she never hesitated. A little color returned to her face and he sat back with her. "Tell me what happened, Belinda."

She nodded her head and tried to speak. "Mr. Garrett, I'm not really sure. I was sound asleep and I heard a terrible sound, a scream from Rose. I ran downstairs and found her outside with that friend of yours, Mr. Maverick. He was on the ground and there was blood everywhere. Rose told me to take the horse and ride for the doctor, so I did. That's all I know. Doc and Rose are with him upstairs."

"Will you be all right down here?" he asked her, truly concerned for her state of mind and her welfare.

"Yes sir, go ahead. I'll put some coffee on for you and Doc."

Thankful for her levelheadedness, Anderson stood and kissed her on the top of the head the way you would a child. "Thank you, Belinda," he said as he left her. He took the stairs two at a time again and found himself in the doorway to Bart's room. Rose sat on the far side of the bed and Doc saw him and came over to talk. There were blood soaked towels and rags everywhere on the floor and Doc was just rolling down his sleeves.

"Doc? What happened? How is he?"

"Mighty lucky, I'd say, Anderson. Three stab wounds, all fairly deep. But it looks like whoever did this just kept stabbing in the same area. Missed everything important. Took a lot of stitches, boy's gonna be sore for some time. I'm most worried about the blood loss. Not quite sure I've ever seen one human bleed so much. Keep him down for a while. Once the stitches don't hurt he can start moving round. Not before then. And keep him quiet. He's been pretty beat up before from the look of things, so watch him close. Any sign of trouble send for me. And get some food in him. Boy's almost emaciated."

Doc and Anderson shook hands and Doc left. Rose got up from her chair and started to pick up the bloody towels and rags. Anderson went over to her and she put her arms around her father and cried. He held her close and stroked her hair until she settled down. He continued to hold her as she told him the story.

"I couldn't sleep so I was up and downstairs. I heard a horse outside. A single horse and I knew something was wrong. I saw him fall off the horse and hit the ground, Poppa. There was so much blood everywhere. Ethan and I carried him inside and I sent Belinda for the doctor." She pulled back from her father. "Oh my gosh, Belinda!"

He pulled his daughter back to the safety of his arms. "It's alright, Rose, I saw her downstairs. She's a little shaken up but fine. If Doc Turner doesn't take her home we'll send her with Ethan. What else?"

"I've never seen so much blood, Poppa. It was everywhere. Poor Zeus was full of it. How he got on the horse I don't know but Zeus got him home. Thank God."

"What else, Rose? What aren't you telling me?" Anderson knew his daughter had withheld some kind of information from him.

"Bart was conscious for just a minute, Poppa. I asked him who did this to him."

"And?"

She didn't answer her father, just held on tighter to him. That told him everything he needed to know.

"Rose? Answer me."

In the tiniest voice imaginable she said, "Elliott."

XXXXXXXX

He'd been here before. It was a different place than Montana; this time he could think and reason. He just couldn't move. And he was so tired. Why did this keep happening to him? Did Pappy really believe 'professional gambler' was a safer occupation than oh, say, marshal? Or gun fighter? And what was this pain? He couldn't take a breath without pain. His whole stomach felt like someone had cut him open and ripped out his insides. Come to think of it, maybe they had.

The last thing he remembered was struggling to sit on the horse and not slide sideways out of the saddle. He kept one hand clamped tight on his wounds and the other was used to precariously balance. If Zeus had broken into a trot or canter he would have been left for dead on the road. Thank God he'd ridden the stallion and not the bay.

Maybe he'd just try opening his eyes and see where he was. It felt like a bed but one could never be sure. He did everything he could but his eyes just wouldn't open; no wait, they were open. It was pitch black outside. How could that be? The moon had just come up, he could remember the moonlight.

Moonlight. It all came rushing back to him. His words to Elliott. The walk outside. The livery. The swarm of locusts known as friends that descended on him. The cold of the blade as it entered his stomach. The taste of wet, warm dirt. The struggle to get on the horse. The desperate attempt to stay there and finally giving up and sliding out of the saddle. And then, nothing. And now the pain.

Every inch of his stomach hurt. Breathe in, breathe out. Pain in, pain out. Stitches. He could feel stitches. It wasn't the first time he'd felt them. He hoped it would be the last.

Movement in the dark. His imagination? No, a swish of fabric. A whiff of perfume. He wasn't alone. He stayed still and quiet and listened to the voice as it sang a tune softly. He'd heard those words before. Where?

'_Sleep my child and peace attend thee, All through the night_

_Guardian angels God will send thee, All through the night_

_Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping_

_I my loved ones' watch am keeping, All through the night_.'

Jody. At some point Jody had sung them. There were more words but those were the only ones that sounded familiar. The voice was different but just as soothing and he let it lull him back into sleep.

XXXXXXXX

The Federal marshal arrived three days later. Anderson wasn't surprised to see him; if he hadn't come to the ranch Garret was going into town. The marshal took his time getting there; no sense working on a case if your only witness might not live.

Marshal Russell got down to business. "I understand Maverick was stabbed. Does he know who did it?"

"The beating or the stabbing? Or both?" Anderson asked.

"Any of it," Russell answered.

"Not sure about the beating. It was dark; we're don't know if he can identify them or not. But Bart told Rose who did the stabbing."

"Alright, who?"

"Elliott Stander."

"Is she sure that's what he said?"

"I'll get her and you can ask her yourself." Anderson got up from his chair and ran up the stairs to Bart's room, where Rose had been ever since it all happened.

Rose came back with her father to see Marshal Russell. He asked her the same questions he'd asked her father and got the same answers. Until he got to the stabbing perpetrator. "Did you ask him who stabbed him, Rose?"

"I did," she replied.

"And what did he say?"

She looked the Marshal right in the eye and answered him. "He said he wasn't sure."

Anderson looked at her sideways. What was this? "Rose?"

"He wasn't sure. He thought it was Elliott but he wasn't sure."

"Rose, don't lie to the man."

"I'm not, Poppa. You can ask him yourself, he's finally awake."

Anderson shook his head in dismay. "Alright, we will." With that he climbed the stairs again, the Marshal right behind him. Bart's eyes were indeed open and he appeared to be alert.

"Mr. Maverick, I'm U.S. Federal Marshal Russell from Carson City. Can you identify the man that stabbed you?"

Bart closed his eyes and answered deliberately. "I'm not sure."

Anderson asked his friend the same question. "Didn't you tell Rose that it was Elliott Stander?"

"I might have." The words came slowly. "I'm not sure now."

"You realize that I can't arrest anyone if I don't have an eyewitness?"

"Yes, Marshal."

Russell turned back to Anderson and shrugged his shoulders. "Not much I can do, Anderson. I need a definite identification to make an arrest. That doesn't qualify."

Garrett wasn't happy but he didn't argue. "I understand, Russell. I'm sorry you came out here for nothing." The marshal left and Anderson looked at Bart, awake and alert for the first time. "What was that about?"

Trust Anderson to not let anything get past him. "I have my reasons."

"They wouldn't be named Rose, would they?"

"What? No." Pause, then quieter, "They're my reasons."

"I don't understand, Bart. You're not going after the kid yourself, are you?" Hard to imagine, but stranger things had happened.

"No."

"Then what is it?" There was no answer. Anderson looked over at the bed to see that Bart had drifted off to sleep again. Better that way. Whatever the reasons for the lie, Bart didn't want to explain. Anderson would just have to wait and see.

XXXXXXXX

It was afternoon the next time he woke up. Rose was there by the bed, just where she'd been whenever he opened his eyes. Most of the time she just smiled but this once she asked him a question.

"Why did you lie for Elliott?"

"Didn't. Lied for me."

"Why? What does that mean?"

"Something else here. Need to know what. Can't find out if he's in jail."

She sighed. So there it was. Bart needed an answer to something that he couldn't get answered if Elliott was in jail. What was it? What did he need to know so badly that he would let a man that attempted to murder him go free?

He wanted to turn over and he knew he couldn't. The least little movement caused the stitches to strain against each other and his entire stomach and chest to hurt. The thought of food made him nauseous but he felt hungry all the same. Plus his entire body ached from the beating he'd taken. He slept so much that he couldn't sleep any more but he was still so tired..

It didn't matter what time of day or night it was or how many weeks passed, Rose was at his bedside. Did she feel guilty or beholden or obligated or all three? He didn't have the strength to ask her. Once he woke up to find her wiping off his face with a damp towel. Once he looked over and she was asleep in the chair next to him. And once more he woke in the dead of night and felt like he couldn't move. It hurt to open his eyes, it hurt to breathe. It hurt to be. And he heard her singing, singing the lullaby. And it was all right for him to let himself drift off back to that place where he felt nothing, he knew nothing, he was nothing.


	15. Chapter 15 Marriage Laid Waste

Fool's Gold

Chapter 15 – Marriage Laid Waste

Stitches hurt and itch, no matter what anyone says. And Bart was dying to scratch them. But every time he went to do so the pain in his belly kept him from proceeding.

Sufficient time passed that most of him was feeling better. Eating was still touch and go; just as he started to get food in his stomach the stitches would hurt and he'd lose all interest in the meal. Shaving became a real chore and he let it go until Rose volunteered to shave him. She'd shaved her father for years when he was home; it was their special time together. Bart became her wiling victim; he despised shaving but loved being clean-shaven. Rose took over the task and he let her.

Weeks later the day came when he attempted to sit up in bed. It was painful, his stomach where the knife had gone in was still extremely touchy but with the help of two extra pillows and a lot of determination he managed it. At last he could actually look around the room and see what was going on. Rose was delighted. She got to see the face of the man she spent all day reading to rather than just hear him. Sometimes they played poker in the afternoons; they played so often that she learned every single way to cheat that Pappy had ever shown him. He taught her Maverick solitaire and she taught him whist and cribbage. They ate every meal together. The first night she slept in her own bedroom he woke during the night and couldn't go back to sleep because she wasn't there.

He discussed everything with Anderson numerous times, always insisting that he wasn't sure it was Elliott Stander that stabbed him. Anderson still wondered just what Bart was up to; Maverick refused to reveal his plans.

Almost three weeks later Bart decided on his own the day had come to leave the invalid behind; he still had his Montana cane and he relied heavily on that to get him out of bed. The unanticipated movements were painful but necessary; now not only did the stitches itch but a whole new level of agony was added while his body tried to adjust to standing. Dressing was a chore, although one he was not going to share with Miss Garrett, no matter how she might try. She'd made one attempt to kiss him; he pulled away from her as she leaned in and grimaced in pain at the sudden movement. She didn't try again.

Anderson was surprised to see him come down the stairs that morning and rushed to help him. Bart tried to wave his friend away; he fully intended to do this on his own. He quickly found that to be impossible and had to allow the assistance, and by the time he reached the lower floor he was exhausted. He tried to hide that; he was so pleased to be out of his room that he wasn't about to let anyone know. Garrett saw it in his eyes and reassured him there was no hurry to heal and move on.

Rose made plans for a picnic later in the week and Bart encouraged her. Though weaker than he'd expected to be, he wanted to talk to her when there was no chance of her father walking in on them. He actually made it out to the porch the day after his first trip downstairs – the fresh air was welcomed after weeks spent in the same room inside.

Several days later Rose had Ethan hitch horses to the buggy and deposited a loaded picnic basket in the back. Bart carefully made his way downstairs and into the front seat. The climb into the buggy reawakened pain that he'd hoped was behind him. Finally and carefully they were off and Bart suggested they drive up to the northern railroad land. It was so beautiful and isolated up there. Rose readily agreed, wondering if she was finally making progress with this man.

The day was exquisite and the drive smooth and peaceful as they drove north. Rose picked a secluded site for lunch and Bart managed to get out with some effort, but he was unable to help Rose down. She wouldn't let him carry the basket, so she first found a grassy spot under a tree and spread the blanket. Sitting down on the blanket was a chore; he could see where getting up would require the use of the cane to brace himself. Rose produced sandwiches, wine, coffee, cheese and fruit and they proceeded to eat like kings. Bart lay back on the blanket after lunch to rest and recuperate and Rose was next to him with her head on his shoulder, careful not to disturb the healing wounds.

"Rose, have you seen Elliott since that night?" It wasn't the question she was hoping to hear.

"No, I haven't. Belinda Jo hasn't either. He hasn't even been around to see her brother. He's been working in the Emporium full time, since his father's opened the new store. Why?"

"Wondering what he was up to now that he's laid waste to your marriage plans."

She sounded slightly indignant. "How do you know he's laid waste to our marriage plans?"

"Hasn't he?"

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. The mere fact that she was lying there next to him answered the question.

"What about the silver mine?" It was an innocent question, if she didn't know what he was talking about.

"What? What silver mine?" After the time he'd spent with her he knew she wasn't that good an actress. Rose hadn't been in on the scheme.

"The one you don't know about, up over those hills?" He attempted to point to the ridge right behind theirs. Even the act of pointing was painful. She sat up and looked confused.

"What are you talking about? There's no silver mine up here, just an old cave full of fool's gold."

He convinced her to lie back down next to him on the blanket. "No, my dear, you didn't go far enough into the cave. There's a vein of silver wide enough to choke a mule. That was one of Elliot's reasons for marrying you."

"How do you know about it?"

"Ah, Rose, just because I taught you all of Pappy's card 'tricks' doesn't mean I taught you all his tricks."

"And you thought I knew about this?"

"It was one of the questions that crossed my mind. You seemed awfully eager to marry the lad at first."

"And now?"

It was a loaded question. But he didn't hesitate to answer. He pulled her close carefully and kissed her, having made up his mind that she just might be worth fighting for.

"Not quite so eager, I think."

They lay side by side for a while and both fell asleep. The sun woke them later as it peeked between the branches of the tree. She was easy to be with and it felt good, no pressure to be something he wasn't. She'd grown up in a gambler's life and seemed to have no trouble adjusting to it. He yawned and remembered not to stretch; she snuggled down into his shoulder. She spoke first.

"Do we have to go?" It was a lazy question that she already knew the answer to.

"Yes, we do." Minutes passed, and then, "Remember that dinner in town I promised?"

"Yes, but that's not tonight."

"No, but there's something I have to take care of soon."

She heard his words and was alarmed. "Elliott?"

"Not yet. Elliott's father."

'What has Herb Stander got to do with this?"

"Everything."


	16. Chapter 16 The Keys to the Kingdom

Fool's Gold

**PLEASE see author's note at end of chapter**

Chapter 16 – The Keys to the Kingdom

Came the day none of them were looking forward to – Dr. Turner came back to the ranch to see how Bart was doing and remove the stitches in his belly. It was going to be a lengthy and painful process but it had to be done.

After making Bart lie down on the bed, Doc Turner looked him over critically. "How's the pain?" he asked.

"It's been worse." The only thing his mind kept saying was _'and it's about to be that way again.'_

Bart inhaled a slow, deep breath and let it out just as slowly. He'd had more stitches in his lifetime than he ever cared to remember, and even though he hated having them removed it was better than having them put in.

Dr. Turner carefully inserted the tip of his knife under the first stitch and pulled it away from the skin just enough to snip it before moving on to the next one. Bart felt the stitch pull but tried to suppress a reaction. The skin over his stomach was sensitive and it hurt more than removing them from a leg or an arm. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, thankful at least that he wouldn't have to deal with stitches any more after today.

"Eating alright?" the doctor asked, as he snipped the next one.

Bart nodded. "Fine."

"Fine for you, I assume. You're obviously not a big eater."

Bart smiled slightly. "Always been that way."

"Hmm," said the doctor as he moved on to the next one. "Any pain in your stomach when you eat? On the inside, I mean?"

Maverick shook his head. It was a little uncomfortable sometimes but didn't really hurt.

"Good." The doctor snipped another stitch, then asked, "Gaining your strength back?"

Bart nodded again. It was slow but returning.

"Keep using the cane until you're sure you don't need it," Dr. Turner told him. "Don't let pride get in the way."

"I know – OW!" Bart was unable to hold that in after an unexpected stab of pain.

The doctor winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, this stitch is a little tight." It was the one right in the middle of the wound, where it was deepest.

Bart grimaced again, wishing he hadn't been speaking when that happened. He might've been able to hold it in if his mouth had been closed at the time.

"Do you get dizzy or lightheaded?" was the next question. Bart hesitated. 'Don't you lie to me, boy," the doctor scolded. "If you say 'no' I won't believe you. You didn't see how much blood you lost."

That was true, Bart didn't. "Sometimes," he admitted.

Dr. Turner nodded. "Just take it easy. Soon this will all be behind you."

'_Until the next time,_' Bart thought to himself with a sigh. He then winced when it pulled on the stitches.

The doctor continued with his work and finally he was done snipping. He quickly pulled out the pieces of thread one by one. Bart closed his eyes for a few seconds; it felt like someone was pulling things out of his body . . . . which the doctor was. Once finished, Dr. Turner placed a towel over the wounds to soak up the blood that bubbled up from the tiny holes left behind by the stitches. Bart held back a wince. The doctor removed the cloth and gently patted more blood away. He studied the wounds before helping Bart sit up.

Bart grimaced. He was relieved to have no more thread in his skin, but absence of the stitches didn't mean absence of the pain.

The young gambler rested on his hands so he could see the new permanent damage to his body. The tiny bleeding holes were ugly and strange-looking, as they literally surrounded all three of the wounds, which were lumpy, purplish lines. He knew that they would get flatter and the color would fade in time, but the scars would remain, to be added to all the others.

The doctor placed a bandage over the wounds and wrapped another around him to hold it there. "Keep a bandage over them for a while . . . . not only will it protect them, but it'll be more comfortable." Bart nodded.

Dr. Turner rolled his sleeves down and pulled the covers up over his patient. "Considering everything, I'm pleased. You seem to be healing nicely. Keep everything clean and protected and you should be fine." The doctor turned and started to leave, then stopped for a moment. "None of my business, really, but you've got an awful lot of scars for such a young man. Sure you're in the right line of work?"

Bart would have laughed but he remembered the reason for the doctor's visit. "Maybe not, doctor, maybe not."

Once it was over Bart tried to let go of the pain but it was a difficult process. His insides felt only slightly better than they had the night of the attempted murder and every hole where a stitch was removed added its own brand of hurt.

He leaned into the pillows and tried to relax. Soon he was asleep, the just completed ordeal taking more out of him than anticipated. He slept through the afternoon, dreaming first of playing as a boy outside the old mill where he and Bret and Beau learned to fish, then of the long and arduous stint in the Confederate Army. Finally he dreamt of Jody, sweet laughing Jody, and all the stories she'd told him of her childhood in Montana. Slowly Jody turned into Rose, with the gray-green eyes and the chocolate colored waves that followed everywhere after her. He could hear her now, calling him.

"Bart, Bart wake up. It's Rose. Wake up, Bart." She shook his arm gently. She had to talk to him.

Slowly he came up out of the dream and heard. He opened his eyes and saw the beautiful smile, the porcelain skin, the gorgeous brown curls. And the look of fear and worry on her face. He was suddenly awake.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Poppa. He just got a message from the town council. They're summoning him to the governor's office this Friday so a decision can be made about the railroad. Something about the Bennett land isn't suitable and all I know is he's madder than I've ever seen him. Can you talk to him and calm him down? I know it's a lot to ask, with what you went through this morning, but you're the only one he'll listen to. He's pacing the hallway downstairs threatening all sorts of things. Please?"

He couldn't have said no if he'd tried. Anderson was his friend, as was Rose, and he'd either been involved in or caused them all sorts of grief since his arrival. "Help me out of this bed." He grabbed his cane with one hand and used Rose as a brace to get up. Then he draped his right arm over her shoulders and they stumbled out of the bedroom.

XXXXXXXX

He was trying his damnedest to stay calm and even tempered. That wasn't easy right now, considering the 'request' he'd just gotten from the town council. He found himself pouring a full glass of brandy and draining the glass, then pouring a second. That's when he looked up at the staircase and saw Bart and Rose hobbling down it. Doc Turner had just taken the stitches out of Bart's wounds this morning and Anderson knew he had to be in pain. Nevertheless he was leaning heavily on Rose with one arm and using the cane to balance on the other side. What had he called Bart before? 'Stubborn Texan?' Yep, that fit alright.

He knew where Rose was going as soon as she'd heard him let out a yelp. Well, this is what he'd hoped for, wasn't it? She'd been at Bart's side ever since that night in Carson City. There'd been no talk of Elliott and, even better, no Elliott in the flesh. Just Bart. He was worried that might change with the wounds healing but there'd been no sign of it.

He looked at the brandy in his hand and set it on the table. He knew his daughter had gone to fetch his friend to calm him down. Well, let them try. He was mad and he was going to stay that way.

Rose guided Bart to the table and helped deposit him in a chair. Then she played dutiful daughter and went to her room. She wasn't going to get in the middle of this; ever since the day Bart told her about the silver mine she felt she was lying to her father because she knew something he didn't. At least she assumed he didn't.

Bart looked at the glass on the table and then at Anderson. "Won't do any good, you know."

Anderson looked back at him. "Don't care."

"Sure you do. Maybe we can stop this."

"What? The forced sale? The destruction of my property? What?" The tone was angry but Bart knew the anger wasn't aimed at him. "They've got their minds made up. Somebody wants to carve up my ranch for no good reason and I can't stop it."

Bart debated telling his friend what he knew and decided against it. "I know what they want, Anderson. I'm just not sure how they intend to get it."

The older man was stunned. "You know what they want? How?"

"Elliott is the key to it all."

Had he gotten hit in the head in the attack? What was Bart talking about? "That little coward?"

"Yes." Could he convince Anderson he was right without tipping his hand? "Do you trust me?"

The answer was swift and sincere. "With my daughter's life."

"Alright then, let's play this out. We've got a few days. Can we go to Virginia City tomorrow?"

"Virginia City? Are you sure? Can you stand the trip?"

"Not by coach, that's for sure. What about the train?"

Anderson gave it some thought. "We can do that. There's one that leaves at 10 in the morning. Can you make that?"

"Sure. Don't see why not. Course I'm going back to bed right now."

They both laughed and Bart grabbed his stomach. "Ow. That hurts."

"I bet it does. Here, let me help you back upstairs." Anderson stood up from the table to help Bart with the steps. It'd be much easier than coming down leaning on Rose, who was too short to be of much good. Bart struggled to his feet and shifted most of his weight to lean on the 'Montana Cane.' Garrett got Bart's arm around his shoulders and they made the trip back up. The younger man hoped that tomorrow would be easier.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I couldn't have done this chapter without a very good friend and fellow writer, Deana. Thank you for your help, inspiration and guidance. And writing. You are invaluable and I will be forever in your debt and forever your biggest supporter.


	17. Chapter 17 Sweet Romance

Fool's Gold

Chapter 17 – Sweet Romance

It was harder to deal with the wounds once the stitches were gone. The 'binding' from Dr. Turner helped some but it almost felt like his insides were going to flee at any moment. Getting up in the morning was difficult enough, but getting dressed by himself was almost impossible. Every move he made had pain associated with it. He felt like he'd accomplished something important when he was finally ready to go.

Anderson was dressed and waiting for him downstairs. The steps were easier than yesterday; not much, but every little bit helped. It was like learning to walk all over again. Climbing into the buggy was an adventure, and not a pleasant one, but with Anderson's help he made it.

'_Good thing we're taking the train,'_ he thought to himself while the buggy seemed to hit every bump and rock in the road. Anderson dropped Bart at the train station and took the rig to the livery. Thank God he still had the cane from Montana; it was the only thing that allowed him to navigate the congested platform. The train ride was uneventful, and a lot easier on his body than the stage coach would have been.

Virginia City was even bigger and more teeming with people than the last time he'd been there. Anderson got a buggy from the stable and they set off to find the Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company offices. Anderson, as the owner of the land the company was trying to purchase, had the right to examine the formal offer that VTR was making. And obtain a copy of that offer. Just as Bart suspected, the strip of land required by the railroad was far smaller than the amount of property the town council was attempting to buy. Somebody on the council had decided to make the sale a 'land grab' to include the area of the silver mine. And Bart knew who was involved.

Just to verify the exact offer, and leave no doubt about the deal, Garrett and Maverick visited another office - the Federal Land Management office. There the exact legal offer had been duly recorded and matched the VTR offer precisely. Mission accomplished, and with several hours to kill before the return train to Carson City, Anderson suggested lunch. At least Bart could sit down and rest that way. And it appeared he needed to do so, as the creased frown never left his face.

They went to the Virginia City Gold Rush Hotel, a place that Bart knew well from his travels. The dining room served the finest beefsteak sandwich in the land and suddenly that sounded good. As they entered the hotel the desk clerk called out, "Mr. Maverick! I've got a message from your brother." This was the hotel of choice for all three Mavericks and everybody knew them.

"Gerald, how've you been?" Bart made his way over to the front desk.

"Better than you, evidently," the clerk answered. "I thought you were almost over that mess in Montana."

"I was. This is a new one." He laughed slightly as he answered; Bart's proclivity for injury was well known.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Maverick. Are you going to be staying anytime soon?"

"No, Gerald, just in town on business. You had a message from Bret?"

"Yes sir, he was here about ten days ago and left this in case we saw you." He handed Bart a folded letter and gratefully took the coin that Bart gave him. The gambler slid the note into his coat pocket and continued on to the dining room with Anderson. Once they'd ordered he resurrected the folded paper and read it over twice, looking increasingly worried the more he read.

"Trouble?" asked his friend.

"Not sure," was the young man's answer. "He's on his way to Denver but somebody's trailin' him. Doesn't know who or why. Says he'll be in touch when he knows more." He paused for a moment and looked thoughtful, then rubbed his chin. Bret was levelheaded about things; if he thought somebody was trailing him then they were.

Anderson could see the message bothered his friend; he gave Bart the time to work things out in his head before saying anything more. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Bart wracked his brain trying to puzzle out who could be after his brother. Other than five or six women and a couple of sore losers he couldn't think of anyone. Finally lunch arrived and Bart gave up. "I guess I'll hear from him if he needs me. Can't do much else."

"Nope. Just do what you have to do." Bart wasn't sure if Anderson was talking about Bret or Rose. Did Anderson know that Bart was romancing his daughter? What would he say if he did? Better yet, what would he do?

"Anderson, there's something we should talk about." Bart approached the topic tentatively, hoping that his friend would still be his friend when the conversation was over.

"Oh? What's that?"

'_Still time to chicken out!' _He thought. Then_ 'No, better be honest.' _"Rose."

Anderson almost laughed out loud. Did Bart really think he didn't already know? Was this mean and cruel, to torment an injured man this way? Maybe he deserved it, just a little, for not saying anything sooner. He kept a straight face and asked, "What about her?"

"I'm uh . . . . well, sort of . . . . . um, uh . . . . . "

"Courting my daughter?" Anderson asked the question as sternly as he could, trying hard to keep a straight face.

Bart hung his head. There was nothing else to do. What Elliot Stander had been unable to finish, Anderson Garrett was going to accomplish. He was going to kill Bart.

Very quietly the answer came, "Yes."

The father could stand it no longer and he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that everyone in the dining room turned to see what was so funny. Bart sat there silently dying inside. Then, finally, Anderson stopped laughing and said simply, "I know."

"You know?"

"That's what I said."

"How long have you known?"

The stern expression returned briefly. "What difference does it make?"

"Oh, none. Absolutely none." Bart waited for something further to be said, anything, but Anderson remained quiet, simply looking at him. Then he said the most startling thing that Bart had ever heard.

"That's exactly what I was hoping for."

"You – what?"

"That's exactly what I was hoping for."

Bart shook his head. He'd heard correctly. And he had been agonizing over not telling Anderson sooner!

Again, the father emerged. "I know Rose. When she decides she wants something she goes after it. I was hoping her attention would shift from Elliott Stander to you. You don't think I wanted that numbskull for a son-in-law, did you?"

Uh-oh. Son-in-law? "Uh, Anderson?"

Garrett saw the look on Bart's face. Sheer panic. "No, Bart, I don't expect you to marry her."

Bart breathed a sigh of relief. "It's just, you know . . . . ."

"I know. I'm a gambler, remember?" _'And that wasn't the only thing,_' thought Garrett_. 'There's always Caroline.'_

"It's not that," Bart reminded him. "I don't want to promise something I can't give."

Interesting choice of words. "Can't or won't?"

"Same thing, right now."

Anderson nodded. "Good enough. But if you ever change your mind . . . . . . "

"You'll be the second to know."

" . . . . . I wouldn't object."

'_Except for some tense moments that went better than I could have hoped.' _Out loud he asked, "Time for the train?"


	18. Chapter 18 Gentlemen Ranchers

Fool's Gold

Chapter 18 – Gentlemen Ranchers

For two whole days things were quiet, and steady, and sweet. Late breakfasts, lemonade, wildflowers, stolen kisses in the moonlight. Crickets and coyotes and peaceful, peaceful dreams.

Of course nothing that idyllic ever lasts, and this was no exception. On the third day a rider appeared at the edge of the ranch and arrived at the front door before he was identified as Wickham Ford, Belinda Jo's brother. Rose and Anderson both went out to talk to Wick and then invited him in. Bart was in the main room reading and they thought he should hear what the young Mr. Ford had to say. Introductions were made and Wickham started with a sincere apology.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Maverick, about everything that happened. Belinda Jo told me what was done to you and I did some checkin' on my own. Elliott was behind everything, including the knifing. He wanted you gone from Carson City and figured if he couldn't run you out he'd kill you. The rest of the gang was in on it, but nobody but Tommy knew about the knife part. They left me out because of Belinda Jo and Rose, but I wouldn't have done it anyway. What good is hurtin' somebody? Anyways, I wanted to tell you in person that I'm done with 'em, all of 'em, and if you want I'll tell the Marshal so's he can arrest 'em."

It was quite a speech and obviously Wickham had put a lot of thought into it. "Thanks, Wick. Glad to know there's one man in this town with a spine. I appreciate the gesture but I'm gonna handle Mr. Stander myself."

Wick looked terrified at what Bart might do. "Are you gonna kill him?"

Bart laughed and then winced. _'Got to remember not to do that,'_ he thought. "No, son, I don't kill people." He looked over at Rose and smiled. "I get even."

"Well, how – oh." Wickham looked from Bart to Rose and understood. "Well, then, if you don't want me to go to Marshal Russell, is there anything else I can do?"

Bart had a question. "Can you find out if all the council members will be at the meeting Friday?"

"Sure," Wick replied. "I can check with my father."

"Good, we need to know tomorrow. Think you can help?"

"Yes, sir," Wickham was so happy to be 'off the hook' for a beating he had nothing to do with that he would have done almost anything asked of him. He stood up and offered his hand to Bart and then followed Rose out the front door.

"How'd he get in that group?" Bart asked Anderson.

"Not rightly sure. I think he was kind of the outsider in the bunch. He was always a little sweet on Rose. Stander pushed him to the fringe because of that. Why do you want to know who's at the meeting Friday?"

"So I'm sure the right people are there." Bart wasn't going to explain any more. He was still keeping secrets, although he believed it was for Anderson's own good. Rose had come back inside and Bart turned his attention to her. "I need to go into town tomorrow. Can I count on you to take me?"

Rose smiled and blushed. "Of course. Do you have something in mind? Is there somewhere you need to go?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I need to get something at the store, and I thought we might lunch at Le Femme Du Cherie if that's alright with you." He looked at her with an amused expression. "Okay?"

" I'd like that."

"And today?'

"What about today?"

"Is there somewhere we can take the buggy and walk a piece? I need to stretch my legs. Nice and flat and not too far?"

Rose thought for a minute. "I know just the place. I'll bring some food and we can lunch there, too."

Bart studied her with merriment in his eyes. "Not too much, Rose. Your attempts to fatten me up will not work."

She laughed, that same musical laugh he'd heard the first day he met her. It was beautiful then; it was beautiful now. "Alright, just a small snack. Be ready in an hour?"

"An hour it is."

XXXXXXXX

He still wasn't able to take the buggy reins. Each time he thought he might try he stretched to take them from Rose and something hurt. When was he going to quit hurting?

She drove them out to a little meadow down by the duck pond that Anderson had created for her when she moved with him from New Orleans. Every spring and fall the ducks gathered there before they flew north or south. Like everything else in the north quadrant of the ranch, there was an abundance of grass, trees and wildflowers. A small stream flowed through that part of the property and kept the pond 'fed.' Everything was shaded and cool, calm and peaceful. It reminded him of that first day they went riding and found themselves trapped by the rain storm. A lot had happened since then and Bart somehow sensed that his time here was almost up. A gentleman rancher he was never going to be.

He still needed the cane to keep his balance but he was leaning on it less and less. As the pain diminished, so too did his dependence on Rose. He needed her help with certain things but he was on his way to being his own man again. It felt good.

He worried about Bret. He'd heard nothing since the note left for him in Virginia City and that piqued his curiosity. It wasn't like his brother to stay silent for so long. And Beau. Was Beau still in Montana? He'd not intended to stay this long in Nevada when he first arrived. Circumstances had changed his plans but not his mind. He needed to help Anderson straighten out the mess that had been made for him. He needed to finish healing, in body and at last in spirit. He needed to tell Rose he loved her. And that he had to go.


	19. Chapter 19 Take Another Little Piece

Fool's Gold

Chapter 19 – Take Another Little Piece of My Heart

He hadn't been dressed, completely dressed since the night of the stabbing. They'd ruined his best vest and shirt, cut to ribbons during the attack and finished off trying to save his life. His good gray coat was gone, too, forever stained by his blood and discarded with the other remnants. He'd have to replace them when he got wherever he was going. Denver if he didn't hear from Bret. Maybe Denver if he did hear from Bret. He'd have time to get new clothes – and some money to get them, thanks to the citizens of Carson City. Now he understood what Anderson meant about there not being 'one decent poker player in the bunch.'

He wanted to drive the buggy into town but he knew after yesterday that his wounds still weren't healed enough to let him. It was painful to stretch and that was always necessary when horses were involved. So once again he let Rose take the reins and he played passenger. She looked beautiful, as she always did, and he felt both pride and sadness when he looked at her. She was a magnificent woman and she deserved a magnificent man. Not him.

When they got to town he insisted he go alone to the Emporium. He had one last thing to say to Elliott Stander and he wanted the conversation to be private. There were two customers in the store and Bart was more than willing to wait his turn. The look of fear in Stander's eyes every time he glanced in Bart's direction was priceless. Finally the store was empty – save for Bart and Elliott.

"I didn't expect to see you in here," Elliott nervously proclaimed.

Bart leaned against his cane, which at the moment he was using merely for show. He still needed it on stairs and getting up and down sometimes, and it was a handy weapon to have around. Right now it was contributing to Elliott's discomfort.

"I don't expect you did at that."

The nervousness continued. "What do you want with me?"

"Oh, several things that I can think of, none of which are too polite."

Elliott tried to be a man and stand up to Bart. "You can't intimidate me by coming in here."

Bart answered in that same quiet voice he'd used on Elliott in the Horseshoe Bend Casino, "That remains to be seen." He stood there for a moment and watched Elliott's nerve pack up and move out, leaving a scared little boy in its place. "I have a message for you and your father. Make sure he gets it."

Just then another customer walked into the store and Elliott was forced to wait on them. By the time the woman was gone it was obvious that Elliott was in a cold sweat. He tried to put on a brave face and asked, "What's the message?"

Bart stood there for a moment and picked the cane up, tapping the end of it in the palm of his hand. "I know about the silver mine. I know what you tried to do. I know what your father tried to do and why. Both of you be at the meeting in the governor's office Friday. Or the next person that comes through that door will be Russell with an arrest warrant for attempted murder." He put the cane on the floor and walked out, using it to navigate the stairs. Rose waited patiently for him in the buggy and smiled when she saw him.

"All done?" she asked, hoping that the answer was yes.

"Sure am. Let's go to lunch."

XXXXXXXX

They had a wonderful time at lunch. Bart even let Rose order for him, being in an adventurous spirit, and ate almost everything she ordered. Then they sat and drank the same black carada coffee that he'd had at 'Around the Bend' and talked mostly about the differences between growing up in New Orleans and growing up in Little Bend, Texas. She laughed at all the stories he told her about the three Maverick 'hellions' and regaled him with tales of 'proper' New Orleans society. The afternoon passed quickly and soon it was time to return to the ranch. He escorted her to the waiting buggy and helped her in, never letting her see the pain on his face. If this turned out to be the last buggy ride they went on he was determined that he was driving. The horses took it slow and he gritted his teeth and endured the constant up and down motion of the carriage.

His back was sore and his stomach muscles felt like he'd been beaten but they made it home in one piece and he was able to help her down from the buggy. They stood on the porch in the fading sunlight and kissed, where they'd kissed for the first time all those weeks and months ago. A different lifetime. He held her close and felt her warmth and her beating heart and thought of nothing but them. No other woman, no other place or time, just here and now. And knew that wherever he went, Rose Garrett would always have a piece of his heart.


	20. Chapter 20 I Hear That Train a' Comin'

Fool's Gold

Chapter 20 – I Hear That Train a' Comin'

Friday dawned bright and clear. Bart knew exactly what he intended to do at the meeting in the Governor's office this afternoon. He felt more at peace than he had for a while, knowing that Anderson's dilemma would soon be over and they could all get on with their lives. But still, Rose.

He loved the woman, there was no doubt. But he was not Beau Maverick, and he knew that settling down was not in the cards for him; at least not right now. Even with a woman who understood him like Rose did. Maybe somewhere down the line . . . . . .

'_Put that aside, Bartley'_ he could hear Jody say in his head. She hadn't written in a while and he wondered what her life was like right now. If he could ever get completely well he would go visit and find out. He'd left Montana to finish healing from the trauma inflicted there; he wasn't going back at less than his best.

Never mind all of that, for now. He wanted to concentrate on the events that he anticipated unfolding later today. The whole thing should fall neatly in place. At least that's the way it was planned.

Once everyone was ready, Bart, Anderson and Rose climbed into the buggy and set off for Carson City. Rose was staying at Belinda Jo's while the men proceeded to the far end of the city and the Governor's offices.

"Good luck," Rose wished them as she alighted at the Ford residence. She kissed her father on the cheek and squeezed Bart's hand. Then she walked to the porch and joined Belinda Jo and Wick as they waved good-bye. The buggy hit a decent size bump as it pulled away and Bart winced, ever mindful of the physical pain caused by the Standers progeny.

It only took a few minutes to arrive at the Governor's office but it was almost like stepping into another world. Busy clerks scurried back and forth in the halls and the governor even had a woman working for him as an assistant. Everyone there seemed to be in a hurry.

They were ushered into an outer office to wait for the rest of the council members to arrive, which they did, one by one. Fred Patrick, the Virginia and Truckee Railroad liaison and father to Jackson. Oscar Jones, Mortimer's father and the head of the 'Property Procurement Committee.' Herb Stander, accompanied by his troublesome son and second in command at the Standers Stores, Elliott. Quincy Statford, Tommy's father and Herb Stander's best friend on the council. Cecil Bennett, father of Billy Joe and owner of the Bennett Ranch, the second property under consideration for the new rail line. Hezekiah Washington, the elder statesman of the council and longtime good friend of the governor. And, of course, Anderson Garrett, landowner, and Bart Maverick, both card sharks. Quite an assembly.

Almost an hour past their meeting time, the group was finally shown into the governor's office. A large and impressive man, Governor Lewis R. Bradley greeted everyone as if he'd known them all his life. He was solicitous of Bart, still using the cane on stairs and for effect at this meeting.

The meeting was formally called to order and some minor issues concerning property lines and territorial boundaries were settled. Then came the land purchase debate, and Bart and Anderson listened to the arguments back and forth, both for and against the purchase of either Anderson's property or the Bennett land. The two contracts were presented by Fred Patrick, supposedly representing the VRT's final offers on the land. Herb Stander, Fred Patrick and Quincy Statford were all for the purchase of Anderson's land; Hezekiah, Oscar and Cecil preferred the Bennett right-of-way. Before a vote was taken, Anderson asked to speak and was allowed to present his case.

"Gentlemen, you may have wondered why Mr. Maverick was included in this meeting. He is an old friend of mine and has been visiting with us. Unfortunately he was attacked by unknown assailants while here," Anderson made a point of looking directly at Elliott, "and has been recuperating since then. Several days ago he accompanied me to Virginia City to exam the original Virginia and Truckee Railroad land offers and to verify them with the Federal Bureau of Land Management. I have in my possession a copy of the offer and it was corroborated by the Federal government. The amount of land requested by the VTR on my northern property differs quite dramatically from the amount of land requested on Mr. Patrick's paperwork. And Mr. Maverick is here, gentlemen, at my request, to explain why the difference." Anderson sat down to allow Bart to present the case he'd assembled.

Bart rose and leaned on the cane, to great dramatic effect. "Gentlemen, Governor, this whole 'scheme' is nothing but a land swindle. Please indulge me for a moment while I return to the launching of the plan, which started innocently enough when Elliott Stander began courting Miss Rose Garrett." He cast a dismissive glance at Elliott. "While there may have been some genuine affection in the beginning of the relationship, greed soon became the overriding motive for its proceeding. Mr. Stander discovered a previously unknown silver mine on Garrett property, not far from the proposed railway connector. It was his original intention to marry Miss Garrett, dispose of her father so that she would inherit the land, and then dispose of his wife so that the mine and its wealth would belong to him. I seem to have spoiled that plan, as Miss Garrett no longer has any disposition to marry Elliott Stander." Bart paused to let his humiliating news sink in.

Elliott turned bright red and waited for the other shoe to drop. Bart wasted no time. "It seems that Herb Stander found himself in considerable financial straits due to his penchant for losing at poker and his desire to expand his retail empire. Thus was born the 'land grab' between he and Mr. Patrick, which inflated the original purchase to include the acreage the silver mine occupies. There is no evidence that points to any involvement by anyone else here. No doubt, once the railroad was done extending its line, Mr. Stander and Mr. Patrick would have become silver miners. If you have any doubts about the veracity of the information, simply compare the VRT offer and the offer Mr. Patrick presented. And then ask Mr. Patrick and Mr. Stander to explain themselves." Bart sat down and waited.

Hezekiah Washington finally spoke. "Mr. Patrick, Mr. Stander, is any of this true?"

Herb Stander was beside himself. All his plans, all his lofty goals, came crashing down around his head. All because of his greed and addiction to playing poker. He said nothing, simply stood up and walked out of the Governor's office. His son quickly ran after him, leaving Fred Patrick alone and shame faced. In one fell swoop he'd lost his reputation as an honest man, his standing in the growing community, and his dreams of immense wealth. And all because of a gambler.

Governor Bradley shook his head. "Why did this become such a mess? What good is the town council if they can't be trusted to take their responsibilities seriously? Really gentlemen, this is a disgrace." He looked none too pleased as he concluded. "Mr. Maverick, I am truly sorry for any pain and suffering these schemes may have cost you. You have my sincere gratitude for your willingness to help right what could have been a significant wrong. I must ask you to leave this office now, however, as what remains of the council must take a vote and you are not, unfortunately for us, a member. Thank you again for your considerable help." One of the Governor's aides opened the door to the office and ushered Bart back out into the outer room.

A few minutes later the doors opened and the council members, all looking a bit chagrinned, made their way out. The Governor and Anderson were the last through the doors, shaking hands as they walked. " , you have my sincerest thanks for refusing to become embroiled in any potential civil lawsuit. You are truly blessed to have a friend as resourceful and dedicated as Mr. Maverick. Have you given any thought, Mr. Maverick, to making Carson City your permanent residence? We could certainly use a man of your particular talents in our community."

Bart laughed even though it was still painful. From convicted murderer to 'resourceful and dedicated.' Pappy would be mortified. Or proud. Bart wasn't sure which. "Thank you Governor, but no, I'm not ready to settle down yet. I'll give serious consideration to the area when the time comes, I promise you." He and Governor Bradley shook hands and the Governor returned to his office.

Anderson had a slight smile on his face but he made Bart ask. "Well? Where's the railroad going?"

There was a note of thankfulness and satisfaction in his friend's words. "Through Bennett land, son, through Bennett land."


	21. Chapter 21 All Aboard Denver

Fool's Gold

Chapter 21 – All Aboard Denver

They celebrated that night: Anderson, Rose, Bart, Belinda Jo and Wickham. The best dinner money could buy – steak that melted in your mouth it was so tender, right there from Nevada raised steers. They were happy, and Bart and the Garrett's were vindicated – no matter how much pain everyone had been through, they managed to 'play the hand' and they won. At least it seemed like they did.

Rose no longer had a fiancé. Bart had several new scars to add to his collection. Wickham had lost numerous 'friends,' as had Anderson. There was a lot of pain and suffering involved in those losses, but the scales had been rebalanced in their favor. Rose was free again. So was Bart, the shadow of Caroline's memory no longer waiting around every corner for him. Wickham had regained his dignity and pride, and Anderson not only got his beautiful, independent daughter back but got to keep the land he loved in one piece. After dinner Belinda Jo and Wickham Ford walked home and Rose went with them, to spend the night with her best friend.

Anderson and Bart went to 'Around the Bend' for coffee, brandy and poker. The place was just as opulent and overdone as the first time he'd been there, but Bart saw it in a whole different light. It was a new beginning, fresh and free and unencumbered by the past, ready for him to make of it what he would. Poker was fun again, coffee ever-present, cigar smoke in his mouth, no ghosts or 'what-ifs' to weigh him down. He and Anderson played at the same table for a long time, and it almost felt like the time they'd spent in New Orleans: challenging and exciting and exhilarating all at the same time. Winning came easy; perhaps Lady Luck was rewarding him for all the back-handed slaps she'd made him endure. And before either of them were ready it was dawn and there was Rose to reclaim and breakfast to be had.

Anderson drove the buggy back to the ranch in almost complete silence; they all knew that a chapter in their lives was about to close. Bart had been thinking about moving on for several days. He still hadn't heard from Bret in Denver and was becoming more than concerned. If he stayed too much longer he wasn't sure he would have the strength to leave, and he wasn't quite ready for bliss yet, domestic or any other kind.

He still wanted to spend time with Rose, nothing had been resolved. He knew that he loved her but not much else. He didn't know how she really felt. Was he just another passing fancy, like Elliott? Was there more to it? He had to know before he left for Denver. One way or the other, he needed to know.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning the horses were hitched to the buggy and the picnic basket was once again packed. Bart brought a deck of cards and Rose brought he book she was starting to read the day he arrived in Carson City – _'Roughing It'_ by Mark Twain.

"I never got started, you know," she told him as they drove up to the northern quadrant. "Every time I picked it up to read some YOU got in the way." It wasn't so painful to laugh anymore, and he did.

"Why didn't you ever read it to me?"

"I figured you didn't need to hear it – you'd lived it. Besides, I thought white whales were more your style."

"Anything that you read to me is my style."

He could still make her blush and she did so, very prettily. They reached their destination soon enough and he gingerly helped her down. At last he was really starting to heal. She picked the spot but he laid the blanket and they both stretched out, her head on his arm and her body as close as she could get to him. They lay there in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke.

"Rose?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Did you love Elliott?"

She thought about it for a moment before she answered. "No, I don't think so. I think I was just mad at Poppa for whatever reason and Elliott was the first boy that paid any attention to me. I emphasize the word boy."

"And now?" It was a loaded question, and Bart knew it, but he needed an answer.

"Now I need a man in my life."

He gave that answer considerable thought before asking his next question. "Got anyone in mind?"

She squirmed on the blanket and raised her head to look at him. "I'm open to suggestions."

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head down towards his. He kissed her softly and then looked into those magnificent gray-green eyes. "I have one for you."

"What, a suggestion?" she giggled.

"Mmmhmmm."

He kissed her again, this time lightly on the tip of her nose. Then again, on the mouth. Then again. And again. And again. He rolled over and leaned on his elbows above her, looking down at the perfect features. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, tight against him, the way he'd held her on the porch in the rain. _'Maybe I should just stay,_' he thought.

"You had a suggestion?" Her voice broke into his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. I know this guy – tall, dark eyes, dark hair, lots of scars. Plays cards for a living. He might be interested in the position."

A breeze blew through the grass and ruffled her hair on the blanket. She was warm, and willing, and snuggled so close to him he could feel every inch of her. It was tempting. For just a moment he thought _'Well, why not? Why not just stay here with Rose? Would it be so bad? Maybe I'm ready to settle down after all.'_

And then he remembered last night, and the rush and the excitement and the thrill of being in a gambling hall, no one to answer to but himself, no place to go that he didn't want to, no work to do but play cards, no responsibilities, no obligations, no home to take care of, no wife. Those were the words that kept repeating in his mind. _'No wife. No wife. No wife.'_

Something he'd thought of earlier flashed in his mind again. _He wasn't Beau. _He wasn't ready to settle down, to settle for just one woman. Even if that woman was Rose Garrett.

Once again her voice broke into his thoughts. "He's not applying for the position now, is he?"

"Uh, well . . . . . . . no. But maybe sometime in the future?"

"Maybe . . . . . if the position is still open."

He dropped back on the blanket next to her and held her gently in his arms. The sun was warm and bright and they were comfortable there, and they started to fall asleep. And right before sleep came he whispered into her hair, "I love you, Rose."

And as she nestled into his arms she whispered back, "Me too, Bart. Me too."

XXXXXXXX

Three days later there was a train leaving for Denver. Bart sent a telegram to the Denver Palace Hotel where he and Bret always stayed but got no answer. Then a telegram came signed _'Breton Joseph'_ and Bart knew that trouble was still following his brother. It simply read _'In Deep._ _Help needed.'_

His reply was worded _'On the Way' _and signed_ 'Bartley Jamison'._

Anderson and Rose made preparations to take him in to Carson City to catch the outbound train. He'd been here so long he felt he was leaving a very familiar place. There was 'Around the Bend' with their delicious coffee and outrageous décor, 'Mitzi's Hole in the Wall' where he'd met the worst poker players the town had to offer, and the 'Horseshoe Bend Casino' where all the trouble started. The livery stable that held nothing but bad memories. 'Standers Emporium and General Store' had better ones – he'd scared the living daylights out of Elliott Stander there. 'Le Femme du Cherie' had some happy times and some not so happy times. But the most familiar things he was leaving were right there in the buggy with him – his good friend Anderson Garrett and the woman he loved, Rose Garrett.

She seemed to understand that he had to go. There was no whining or pleading, no crying or moaning that if he loved her he would stay. He called it the 'Maverick Wanderlust,' she called it 'Gamblers Disease.' She was born and bred a gamblers daughter and she understood the life well.

When it was time to board the train she kissed him full on the lips, right in front of her father, and didn't flinch. "Good-bye, Mr. Maverick. I hope your trip is pleasant." Then she kissed him again and let go. Anderson gave him the same bear hug that he greeted him with on his arrival and said "Thank you, son. You saved our lives. You're welcome here, anytime you want. There's always a place for you."

Bart leaned on his cane and took his bag from Anderson's hand. He boarded the train without looking back and took a seat by the window. As the train started to pull out of the station Rose and Anderson waved and he waved back. And then he heard familiar words: "There'll be a poker game in the gentlemen's lounge at 2 p.m. for anyone interested. Please see the conductor to reserve a spot."

"Oh conductor –"


End file.
